


dissonance and consonance

by TheFledglingDM



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: "What Is Self Care" Kurapika, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Background Gon/Killua, Blood, Drift Compatibility, Falling in Love at the End of the World, Gets a little hand-wavy though, Hisoka is there and is Weird but not as Weird as in the show, M/M, Medic Leorio, Medical Procedures, Mutual Pining, Swearing, Trans Kurapika, brief mentions of transphobia - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25457284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFledglingDM/pseuds/TheFledglingDM
Summary: “In that case, I’d like to see you do some mental sparring tomorrow afternoon. Meet Melody and me at 1300 hours in the simulation room.”“The simulation -” Leorio and Kurapika squawked at once.“The simulation room,” Bisky confirmed. She studied them both again and then nodded, as if agreeing with herself. “Let’s see if we can’t get you two in a jaeger after all.”_or: a leopika pacific rim au.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 28
Kudos: 123





	dissonance and consonance

**Author's Note:**

> hello, thank you so much for clicking!! this is my first work in the hxh fandom, so i'm still getting a hang on these characters. please enjoy!
> 
> a general content warning: this story contains mentions of blood, some medical procedures, trauma, and references to transphobia. keep this in mind going forward!
> 
> please enjoy!

## 

dissonance and consonance

Alarms blared. They were so loud they echoed, reverberating from the metal walls until the base practically vibrated. Leorio could feel them rebounding off his sternum, beating down his eardrums, ricocheting through his teeth. Teeth that he grit in irritation because _dammit, not like we need folks in their best shape when they go out to fight, no such thing as tinnitus._ He’d march down to Netero’s office and give him a piece of his mind if it hadn’t already failed the first three times.

Interestingly, horrifyingly, the eager yelps of his companions somehow _exceeded_ the alarm’s god-forsaken ringing.

“It’s a category two!” Gon was shouting, staring at his phone alert and showing it to Leorio like this was fucking show-and-tell.

“It’s a category three, dumbass, learn to read,” Killua said. He was definitely speaking at his normal volume, so how did Leorio know what he was saying? No idea. Some batshit “Zoldyck training” specialty Killua would go on about before explaining a process that was definitely child abuse and/or torture under most international laws.

“C’mon, then!” Gon said cheerfully. He grabbed Killua’s hand eagerly, ignoring Killua’s irritated blush and the fact that they were about to risk their lives fighting a giant alien monster twenty stories tall.

“You take care!” Leorio bellowed after the two hell-beasts.

“Will do!” Gon shouted back, waving his free hand.

“Don’t die before we’re back, old man,” Killua retorted, raising a middle finger in parting.

Leorio rolled his eyes as he watched their retreating backs. People asked him sometimes when they weren’t around (and sometimes when they were) - _are they dating? Best friends?_ And Leorio would simply answer, _they’re hunter partners,_ like that explained everything.

And maybe it did. In another universe, maybe Leorio would have known what that was like - arm in arm, hand in hand, mind in mind with his best friend and partner, united in the fight against the apocalypse in a sick-ass jaeger. But Pietro died in a kaiju attack and Leorio refused to allow anyone else in his head. He didn’t even want anyone close enough to try.

He sipped his coffee and went to make sure they were stocked up on their medical supplies.

~

_“Hunter engaged.”_ The voice echoed in his ear. _“Your stats are coming up perfectly. How do you feel, Kurapika?”_

Kurapika rolled his shoulders, tilted his neck side to side to ensure he had maximum mobility. “Everything is in order, Melody.”

_“Excellent. Commencing jaeger drop in thirty seconds.”_

Kurapika couldn’t tap his foot or move his arms in anticipation, so he was left to curl his _toes_ in his boots. His heart drummed with impatience. He needed to move, to _fight._ This wasn’t the kaiju he sought, but any opportunity to fight was a welcome opportunity to train, to _feel._ To feel _anything,_ even if it was exhaustion, anger, pain.

A new voice cried into his ear. _“Kurapika! You’re coming, too?”_

 _“Obviously,”_ said a second voice. Kurapika bit his lip against a laugh.

“Gon,” he greeted. “Killua.”

 _“This is going to be great!”_ Gon was saying. _“The three of us make such a great team! Did you hear we’re fighting a category three?”_

“I did,” Kurapika said evenly, as if he somehow hadn’t read the alert on his way into his jaeger. “They’re calling it Thundermaul.”

He knew because he studied kaiju between training sessions and late at night when he couldn’t sleep. Thundermaul was a twenty-story tall lizard creature, with scales like metal and eyes that sparked with lightning. It only appeared during the typhoon season, emboldened by the lightning that glanced off of its scales to hit land. Which meant that in addition to a bite strength of approximately eight billion pounds per square inch, twenty-foot teeth and claws like titanium, static-charged skin, and a tail shaped like a hammer (hence the name), they also had to worry about flooding and uneven ground and sinkholes.

Cool.

(It wasn’t the kaiju Kurapika was searching for, the one he _needed_ to kill before the rest got to him. Hunters didn’t live long, especially not hunters who piloted alone. They weren’t as effective as the tag-teams of two or three, nor was the human body designed to handle the stress of piloting alone. Experts warned against the long-term effects of going solo. Advice which really only applied to, well, Kurapika, who had been piloting alone since he was twenty.

It wasn’t that he _wanted_ to hunt alone. But no one was drift compatible with him, and he would rather die in a jaeger from a massive hemorrhage than waiting to maybe find someone who could survive a trip into his fucked-up mind - not that he wanted to subject anyone to that, not really, no one else needed to see this, hear this, feel this, _focus, Kurapika, focus -)_

 _“Drop in three...two...one,”_ Melody murmured into Kuapika’s ear. There was the familiar feeling of his stomach rising up through his chest and throat as his jaeger dropped. Kurapika lifted his knees, bracing himself and the jaeger for impact. He landed smoothly and rolled, dispersing the kinetic energy, and rose back to his feet in a smooth motion.

 _“Great landing, Kurapika!”_ Gon said through the comms.

 _“Gon,”_ Killua said, which Kurapika appreciated because he didn’t want to have to babysit both of them on this mission. Killua effortlessly looped Gon back to the task at hand, forever the caution to Gon’s recklessness. Kurapika looked up, cursing that his solo piloting meant using a smaller machine, like he wasn’t _already_ shorter than every other guy here.

“Melody, what’s the latest intel?” Kurapika asked. He started jogging through deserted streets. The streetlights were out, either from the storm or the kaiju or both. His job was scouting and support, while Killua and Gon got to actually fight the damn thing.

 _“Two hundred meters north-northwest,”_ Melody said to them. Kurapika could picture her leaning over her screens. _“Hellion Whale, Bloody Chains, be careful.”_

“Yes, Melody,” the boys chorused, and Kurapika took off first. The ground rumbled below Bloody Chains’ feet, leaving footprints the size of SUVs on the pavement in its wake. Kurapika covered ground quickly, hearing the kaiju well before he saw it. The sound was indescribable - an opera hall filled with chainsaws and the screeching of millions of nails on thousands of chalkboards, an eerie, high-pitched ringing over the indiscriminate destruction of buildings.

“It’s heading straight for an electric plant,” Kurapika said. The thing was long decommissioned in the wake of the nuclear age, but with the amount of electricity running through Thundermaul, a single touch would send electricity hurtling through frayed wires. He could imagine the miles and miles of raining sparks and flames as the city erupted in electrical fires. And with all this rain -

 _“Kurapika, I’m not in your head and I can_ still _hear you overthinking,”_ Killua said over the comms.

“Shut up, I’m planning,” Kurapika snapped even as he picked up his pace. “We need to make sure Thundermaul doesn’t get to this. Or, we need to discharge the electricity.”

 _“Bloody Chains, whatever you are thinking, stop,”_ Melody said into his ear. Kurapika grit his teeth. Why did everyone always think he was going into every mission with a death wish? His death wish was reserved for _one_ kaiju specifically, thank you, and then he would go at it with everything he had. Until then -

“Hellion Whale, I’m going to the wreckage of the wall,” he said, already sprinting. “The kaiju uses its tail to balance, so if we can restrain the maul that’ll be two birds. I will set up a trap to slow it down, and then you beat the shit out of it. Make sure it doesn’t get through.”

 _“Oh, hell yes,”_ Killua and Gon chorused through the radio. Out of the corner of his eye, Kurapika saw Hellion Whale fucking dab before running ahead to intercept Thundermaul. Kurapika smirked despite himself. True to their jaeger’s name, the two little hellions loved nothing in this dying, mid-apocalyptic world as much as fighting (except, perhaps, each other).

He wondered what it was like to have that as he started to hang a net of chains from the ruins of the Pacific Wall. Join the Hunter Association to save the world, to live up to your family name (Killua), to search for your missing, legendary hunter father (Gon), only to find your best friend, soul mate, and drift partner at nineteen. What assurance that created, knowing that if you were to go down it battle, it would be with the other half of yourself.

But this was getting excessively depressing and wallowing, Kurapika thought to himself, and he had a job to do. He swung easily through the massive wreckage of the wall once he finished putting up his net and left to find Hellion Whale. The lightning flashing off of Thundermaul’s scales and the blinding blue-white flashes of Hellion Whale’s electric-charged fists lit up the decimated coastline like flares.

Here, at least, was where Kurapika shone: where the bigger, slower jaegers excelled in landing punches that could level skyscrapers, Kurapika shone with his dexterity. He was used to being an overlooked, back-biting runt, so he could find handholds and crawl all over these damn kaiju and restrain them with his chains. He wasn’t sure what these chains were made of, and Killua refused to ask his brother Milluki a goddamn thing, but all that mattered was the chains were practically indestructible and seemingly limitless.

Case in point: Kurapika swung above and below and ran along Thundermaul’s broad hide, snagging its legs and hanging off of its tusks and punching Bloody Chains’ three-meter titanium alloy knuckles into its side and being a general nuisance. The world started to glow red as Kurapika’s irises changed color, his heartbeat pounding screaming rage through his body, his ears -

 _“Bloody Chains,”_ Melody was crying, _“Bloody Chains, your heart rate is worryingly elevated - you’re overwhelming the neural sensors, be careful, be careful -”_

Thundermaul twisted its head and threw Bloody Chains off. For several moments, Kurapika was weightless. Then pain echoed through his head and back and extremities as he collided into a building. Kurapika choked on air, his head spinning. He needed to get up, he needed to get to the boys (he was too protective of those kids, far too much for someone only five years older than they were, too protective to leave them behind the way he knew he one day would, _but but but -)_

Kurapika snarled as he painfully rose to his feet. Muscles protested and he felt his temples tightening in an impending migraine as he sprinted toward the kaiju. Nevertheless, he sprinted back to the fight, using an abandoned highway onramp to get much-needed height as he leapt from a height and lassoed a chain around one of Thundermaul’s horns. Screaming a Kurta curse, he let himself swing down, stomach in his chest again, and then rise up in the air. He had an idea, and it was very stupid and very reckless and very badass and would definitely hurt a lot.

He would survive, probably.

“Hellion Whale,” Kurapika yelled. “When I say so, punch me!”

 _“What the fuck?”_ Killua panted as he and Gon threw up their arms to block an attack.

Kurapika carried on with his plan, interlacing the chains over the creature’s hide. They only had one chance to do this. Kurapika ran between the ten-meter tall ridges on the kaiju’s back. He grit his teeth and forced his muscles to bend, contract, push himself into the air, Bloody Chains mimicking his movements. Then, as gravity took him, Kurapka lowered his arms to strike fists-first. He felt as well as heard the satisfying _crunch_ as his spikes drove through scales and hide and skull to hit brain. Blue kaiju blood spurted over Bloody Chains’ hands, splattering over Kurapika’s viewport.

“Now!” Kurapika shouted.

 _“But Kurapika -”_ Gon tried to protest.

_“DO IT!”_

Kurapika watched as Hellion Fist’s massive charged fist swung down onto him. There was the screaming of splintering metal, the hiss of crackling electricity, the bellow of the dying kaiju, and Kurapika’s world went black.

~

_Hm,_ Leorio thought, tapping his foot on the tiled floor. _You again._

Kurapika lay in his hospital cot, left to Leorio’s care. _Again._

He had a tendency to show up in the med bay on various points of the spectrum between “alive” and “dead.” The first time they met, back when Leorio was stupid enough to be charmed by an admittedly very pretty face (round cheeks; a straight, pointy, slightly upturned nose; soft-looking, full lips; fine blond hair that haloed his face in a golden glow; when he opened them, deep gray eyes), he had even considered trying to chat him up. That was until Leorio tried to suture a deep laceration along his side, and the prick somehow awoke in the middle of it and slapped Leorio’s hand away like he was some kind of creep and not a _fucking doctor._

Well. Almost-doctor. It wasn’t medical school, but Leorio was learning as he went from books, Cheadle’s tutelage, and experience. He no longer wondered where his next meal was coming from, and he had friends. Friends who were five years younger than him and often left him feeling like a third-wheeling parent, but friends nevertheless. He made plenty of money for himself to send home to his family and anyone he once knew to get the hell away from the coast, and the contacts to see that they arrived at their destinations safely.

But back to the task at hand. This was the fifth time Kurapika had wound up under his care. The first was a series of deep lacerations and gouges from a Cat 2 named Spearslicer; the second, some bruises and a light sprain from a failed search for a drift partner; the third, a horrendously broken leg from a Cat 3 called Bulldozer; the fourth, still more scrapes and bruises and two broken fingers from _another_ search for a drift partner; and now.

It seemed like the endless cycle of things as they spun their wheels towards the end of the world. Kurapika getting his ass kicked by kaiju and throwing his all (or nothing) into finding a drift partner, Leorio forever tasked with patching him up again and sending him out. Leorio felt like that for a lot of their hunters. He thought of it when he iced Gon’s swollen cheeks and eyes, when he tenderly wrapped Killua’s bruised knuckles and broken fingers when he ran into his elder brother.

(Cheadle had needed to stitch him up too, once, when Leorio hunted down Illumi to give him a piece of his mind. Leorio rather thought the small scar on his forehead from the subsequent fight was rakish. Killua told him it looked “just like his egg-shaped chode” and ducked out of the room so Leorio wouldn’t see him express human emotion.)

Anyway. The point: Kurapika was once again laying in a medbay bed, completely out cold. He was bruised and burned all over. Gon and Killua had told him what happened during their fight, so Leorio knew that Kurapika was quite lucky that he only had some first- and second-degree burns from his suit overheating against his skin and buffering the electricity from frying his stupid idiot man heart into...into something fried. He was a doctor, not a chef.

Kurapika would ideally be out for a while yet, between the pain medications and exhaustion, so Leorio started tending to what he could without stirring him. He managed to clean, bandage, and wrap both of Kurapika’s legs and had moved on to his arms when he stirred.

Leorio _hated_ the way his stomach flipped as he watched Kurapika’s lashes flutter. He blinked his eyes open, looking perplexed by his surroundings as he peered around the medical bay. Then he glanced at Leorio, and his confusion fell into the carefully curated expression of disdain and indifference he seemed to save especially for Leorio.

“You again.”

Leorio rolled his eyes and reached for the cup of water on the side table. “I thought the same thing. Drink this and tell me your pain level on a scale of one to ten.”

“I’m not an invalid,” Kurapika protested, weakly lifting a hand to ward off the impending cup of water and then dropping his arm with a hiss of pain.

“No, but you do currently have some degree of burns covering over half of your body, so moving is going to be _very_ uncomfortable right now. Your body is in hyperdrive trying to heal, and unless your health habits have miraculously improved from the _last_ time you were in here, you’re already starting behind in terms of dehydration. So shut up and drink.”

Leorio (gently) shoved the water in Kurapika’s face, poking his lips with the plastic straw. Scowling like a toddler, Kurapika finally relented. It was almost comical, Kurapika glaring daggers at Leorio while the doctor-in-training irritably tried to save his life again.

Leorio pulled away the glass when he was satisfied Kurapika had enough and repeated, “Your level of pain?”

“Zero.”

“Bull-fucking-shit. Try again.”

“Four.”

“You know, I think you’re the only one here who says they’re in less pain than they actually are to _avoid_ pain-management medications,” Leorio said.

“I’m not searching for oblivion in opiates.”

Leorio made a jacking-off motion. “That’s real edgy of you, Kurapika, but it makes my job harder if I don’t know what you need. So one last time, or I will take that zero at face-value. Scale. From one. To ten.”

Kurapika scrunched up his face like he had unexpectedly bitten into a lemon. Finally, he said, “Seven. The pain is worst in my right forearm and hand.”

“Okay,” Leorio said. He thought he deserved praise for not asking _now, was that so hard?_ like he desperately wanted to. But Cheadle had taught him the importance of a calm mental state facilitating healing, so condescending to Kurapika was only going to lengthen both of their pain in the long run. He turned his attention to Kurapika’s arm, which was red and shiny with blisters. Some had popped from the rush to remove the idiot man from his shattered jaeger, so those would need to be drained properly and cleaned. “That makes sense. I’m going to bandage it now. I’ll be as gentle as I can be, but let me know if there’s any unexpected pain.”

“I will.”

For several long minutes they sat in silence. Leorio’s world narrowed to his task. With careful, gentle hands, he cleaned the area, tactfully retreating or reducing his pressure when Kurapika reflexively pulled away from the pain. Leorio looked up at one point to check in on his patient, only to freeze briefly as he met his eyes. They were a dusky, dark gray, like storm clouds. Kurapika was studying him with an inscrutable expression, his head tilted like he was considering Leorio. The blond fringe of his bangs fell over his forehead. He was looking at Leorio like he had never truly seen him before, like…

“You’re a very crude man.”

...Like he was judging him. Yeah. That made a lot more sense than anything else Leorio may have imagined.

“You’re a bit of a pill yourself, sunshine,” Leorio grumbled.

Kurapika’s lip curled in a sneer. _“‘Sunshine?’”_

“‘Cuz you’re such a bright spot in my day,” Leorio said dryly.

Kurapika flushed red in irritation as Leorio finished wrapping the bandage. Before he could say something else irritating and pissy, Leorio said, “You’re going to need to come in twice a day for the next week for wound cleaning and dressing. We’ll reassess how often you need to come in after that. If your pain skyrockets and the over-the-counter meds don’t work, _tell me._ If you feel feverish, _tell me._ Drink lots of fluids and eat an apple, I am _begging_ you. You still are going to want to exercise as the skin heals, but so help me God if you injure yourself again I am going to tie you to this bed.”

“I didn’t think you were that kind of doctor,” Kurapika said snidely. Leorio rolled his eyes as he stood up to wash his hands.

“Doctor-in-training, _thank you,_ and I’m only that kind of doctor for very special patients. Which you, sunshine, are not.”

“Stop calling me sunshine.” Kurapika was blushing to the roots of his hair now. Leorio was surprised at how flustered the simple tease seemed to leave him. It was... endearing, really. Annoyingly so.

“Be less of a pain in my ass and I’ll consider it,” Leorio said. He reached into a glass jar. “What flavor lollipop do you want?”

“What flavor - what?” Kurapika asked, flabbergasted.

“Of lollipop. Or, well, Dum-Dum,” Leorio said, checking the brand. “End of the world and these damn things are still kicking around. Who’d’ve thought?”

“I’m not a child,” Kurapika said hotly. “I don’t need a _lollipop_ after seeing a doctor.”

“No? Killua takes half the jar when he comes in, and then Gon steals the other half like he thinks I won’t notice,” Leorio said. Kurapika’s lips twitched as he tried not to smile at that. Leorio held the jar out towards him. “C’mon, just take one. I don’t feel like I’m doing my job if I don’t offer.”

Kurapika glared at him for another long moment. Then, so quickly and deftly that Leorio might have missed it if he blinked, he stuck his hand into the jar and pulled out a bubblegum-flavored Dum-Dum.

“Not a word of this to anyone,” Kurapika snapped as he ripped off the wrapper and stuck it in his mouth. Leorio shook his head as he watched him go, moving awkwardly in with all of his bandages, the little asshole.

~

Kurapika spent the next few days in a haze of pain.

He wasn’t _trying_ to be difficult, little as Cheadle’s pissant of a trainee seemed to believe him. Kurapika had trained himself ragged for _years;_ he created a higher pain tolerance for himself because he needed to. He was _used_ to the constant nagging discomfort of sore muscles and pain on the edges of his consciousness. Their medications were best saved for people who really needed them, who had more severe injuries than he did.

So Kurapika went to bed earlier (11pm instead of midnight) and rose later (6am instead of 5am) and did a gentler exercise regiment and met Cheadle’s crude troglodyte to go over his injuries after breakfast. A breakfast where Kurapika actually drank water instead of coffee and had orange juice, simply so he could throw these facts in Leorio’s stupid face as small victories like these weren’t the bare essentials of taking care of a body.

Here’s the problem with Cheadle’s stupid, useless lackey: he wasn’t actually stupid or useless at all, and Kurapika _hated that._

From the first time Kurapika had seen Leorio - in the dining hall, not when he awoke to him stitching his stomach back together - Kurapika had been struck with two things about him. First, Leorio was _quite_ attractive when he wasn’t spouting his shit out the wrong end (an issue the doctor-in-training ought to be able to diagnose and treat, alas), and second, under a crude exterior and short temper, he was actually endlessly kind. Kurapika watched him shepherd around the unstoppable force that was Gon and the immovable object that was Killua as easily as if they were children and not sort-of, mostly adults. Killua’s younger sister, Alluka, seemed to have adopted Leorio as her older brother in replacement of the shitty other ones.

Case in point: Kurapika walked into the medical bay early in the morning after his breakfast. The place was quiet and empty save for a back bed that housed someone injured from a recent kaiju raid Kurapika wasn’t cleared to go on. The overhead lights were off, but Leorio’s table lamp was on, glowing over the thick medical textbook he was reading. The light shone on warm, olive-toned skin, playfully mussed dark hair, a scruffy, well-formed jaw. Kurapika swallowed inaudibly and made himself knock on the door.

The medic looked up immediately, the light flaring over his round glasses. A shit-eating grin spread over his face. “Morning, sunshine,” he greeted Kurapika. His voice was rough from lack of sleep. He pushed his rolling chair away from his desk and rolled to where his burn supplies were. “Get settled, you know the drill.”

Kurapika rolled his eyes and wordlessly sat down. For several long moments, the room was silent as Leorio washed his hands and came to sit in front of where Kurapika was perched on the edge of the hospital bed.

“How’s the pain?” Leorio asked.

“Five,” Kurapika said truthfully. Then, feeling like a juvenile but wondering how the medic would react, he said, “I have another pain, though.”

“Oh?” Leorio looked up. He had warm, dark brown eyes. Kurapika already regretted this.

“Yeah. It’s in my head. Comes and goes. Started when I came in, actually.”

Leorio clenched his jaw briefly, and Kurapika _wished_ that wasn’t as attractive as it was. Then, even worse, the medic snorted out a soft laugh. “You’re real funny. Have you been working out?”

“Oh - I -” Kurapika’s mind went blank as his face red. He wasn’t one to focus on bulking up, preferring to use his greater dexterity and stamina against his opponents, but if Leorio saw anything -

“...Like I said, need to keep up with some kind of training regiment, or the healing skin is going to be tight and uncomfortable, like putting on a sweater that shrunk in the wash,” Leorio was saying, because much as Kurapika mocked him for being a crude asshole he was overall focused and professional and _this_ was why Kurapika hated him, because Kurapika walked into the medical bay and his brain turned to bubblegum.

“I’ve been training,” Kurapika said shortly. “And drinking water. And I ate an orange.”

“Well done,” Leorio said. “Want a sticker?”

“Only if it’s the scratch and sniff kind.”

Leorio snorted out a laugh. It made the lines around his eyes wrinkle. “I’ll see if we have any.”

Kurapika did not reply. There was no need when Leorio started to carefully unwind the bandages around Kurapika’s arms. The burns on his legs were superficial enough that Kurapika could take care of them on his own, but Leorio insisted that Kurapika come in daily for two full weeks as his arms recovered. The skin still oozed clear discharge in some places, but given it was clear and odorless, Leorio wasn’t _too_ worried, and he tallied this slow rate of recovery to the “horrendous care” Kurapika took of his body. Which was _rich_ coming from him, because Leorio looked like he slept two nights a week. As Kurapika studied him, he noticed the puffiness around his eyes, the way he was paler than he ought to be from being cooped up inside. He smelled like antiseptic and coffee and fading cologne.

“What?”

Kurapika blinked. He realized he had zoned out staring at Leorio. Very handsome, very annoying Leorio. He needed to pass this off, say something, as him a question about his burns, what could he say -

“You look awful.”

_Not that, dumbshit!_

Leorio rolled his eyes. “Pardon me for not looking like I’ve just come off a runway. I’ve been busy. Taking care of the newest batch of recruits, patching up the group from that Cat-Three the other night, and, of course, brushing up on my burn medicine.” Despite the acerbic tone, Leorio’s fingers were gentle as they cleaned Kurapika’s skin. His fingertips brushed over the sensitive insides of Kurapika’s wrists, and it took twenty years of martial arts training to stop himself from jumping.

“Leorio,” Kurapika said softly, rolling the syllables on his tongue. _Le-o-ri-o._ He spun his mind to come up with something to say when Leorio halted his ministrations immediately.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Kurapika said, “I was… wondering. Why do you do this?”

“Because if you didn’t get your bandages changed your arms would go gangrenous and fall off. Actually, that might be better for you in the wrong run. Get out and jump into the bay.”

Kurapika glared at him. “No, I meant...why are you a medic here?”

“Reviewing my resume?” Leorio asked, lifting an eyebrow with a smirk.

“I’m trying to start a _conversation,_ you insufferable lout,” Kurapika replied, hoping Leorio would pick up on the _I’m trying to extend an olive branch to you, you irritating prick_ without Kurapika needing to say it, because small talk and emotional vulnerability were two skills of his that had long sat rusted and unused.

That actually seemed to surprise Leorio into thoughtfulness. For a few long minutes, he considered the question. Finally, Leorio shrugged. “Why does anyone join the Hunter Association? For the money.”

Kurapika blinked before he almost fell off the bed in surprise. The idea that Leorio, who pulled all-nighters for his patients, who made sure Gon and Killua ate their vegetables and slept enough and were happy and healthy, who once punched Illumi in the face for deadnaming Alluka, who kept Dum-Dums stocked up for his patients and the few children running around the base, who volunteered to teach the older kids chemistry and biology, who came with them on emergency missions to triage civilians in catastrophic attacks, whose presence was the only thing that made Kurapika feel anything close to peace in _years -_

 _This man_ was only in it for the money?

“No way,” Kurapika said. “That’s so…”

“Realistic? Pragmatic? Sensible?”

 _“Selfish,”_ Kurapika spat. He felt himself growing angry, his infamous hair-trigger temper gaining hold. “People are _dying._ The world is _ending._ And you’re here trying to make a quick _buck? Fuck_ you.”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” Leorio snapped. “Not all of us are on some vengeful quest of righteous fury that makes them as much a danger to themselves as everyone around them -”

“ - If this is about that Cat 4 with Gon and Killua last year, I’ve _already said -”_

 _“ - Obviously_ it’s about that, and I _know_ what you said about it being ‘a last ditch effort,’ and I think it’s _bullshit -”_

“ - and even if I _do_ have my own agenda, at least it’s not some self-serving desire to hoard a useless resource! What, you plan to build yourself a pyramid, take it all with you to the afterlife?”

 _“One,_ that’d be sick as hell, thanks for the idea, and _two,_ acting like money isn’t a more valuable commodity than it’s ever been is a delusion,” Leorio said.

“Pray tell, how?” Kurapika sneered. “Is there a backorder on your Dum-Dums?”

 _“Yes,_ in fact, which is why I’ve banned Killua from the medbay unless he’s actively bleeding,” Leorio hissed, and Kurapika fucking _hated_ him because how _dare_ he be funny and such an asshole. “And I’m not sure if you’ve fucking noticed with your head stuck up your ass, but it’s fucking expensive to move anymore. Travel is near-impossible, housing prices have increased _thousandfold,_ and even when you get there the price of living is _insane._ Only the rich and famous and connected made it inland. Now the other ninety-nine percent of the living population has to play catch-up just to survive longer than a year in a single place. Nevermind the terrible housing, food, medical care, schools…”

Leorio glowered down his nose at Kurapika as he finished, “Maybe the world is ending. But if money still makes the world go round, then I’m going to grab as much of it as I can hold, and I’m going to save everyone I can. But I don’t expect you to understand that.”

He rolled away from Kurapika. Startled, he looked down at his arms. Even as he tore Kurapika a new one, Leorio had efficiently finished bandaging his burns.

“See you tomorrow,” Leorio said in a clear message to get out. Kurapika was too embarrassed and ashamed to do anything but leave.

He stalked out of the room. Kurapika had already trained that morning, but he was in too high a temper to sit and read up on the latest kaiju statistics. He could have visited Hisoka in his lab to learn, but Kurapika had a feeling the scientist would send him a single smile and Kurapika would at last cave and punch his lights out. So he directed his steps to one of the more out-of-the-way training rooms where he was unlikely to be found by the average passerby. Kurapika breathed a sigh of relief when he found his preferred room empty. He toed off his shoes and started his stretches. Then he took up his bo staff and started going through his paces.

Due to his burns, his stamina wasn’t up to its usual standards. Soon Kurapika was sweating, his skin pulling slightly and feeling itchy and his chest ached because he hadn’t actually changed out of his binder, _fuck_ that was going to hurt later, but he was _just_ angry and he wasn’t sure _why._ Finally, Kurapika finished this set and lay down his staff. He winced, rubbing a hand over his sternum.

“Well done.”

The soft, sweet voice was the only one he would have welcomed in this state. Kurapika bit back a smile as he turned to see Melody in the doorway. She smiled gently and held up her hands, which both held mugs of something steaming. “May I join you?”

“Of course,” Kurapika said. He used the hem of his shirt to wipe off his forehead and he sat down to start his cool-down stretches. Melody set a mug beside him and sat in a cheap fold-out chair against the wall. Kurapika asked, “How did you know I was here?”

“I went to the medical bay to check on Pokkle’s injuries. Leorio was in the process of...venting his frustration regarding a recent argument between you two to Cheadle. I thought it would be best to check on you, and I knew this was where you would probably go,” Melody said simply.

Kurapika scoffed. “Whining about me to his boss. That’s good for morale.”

“We all feel uncharitable emotions sometimes,” Melody said serenely. She glanced down at him, a knowing sort of smile on her mouth. “We all say things we don’t quite mean when provoked.”

Kurapika hung his head. “I wasn’t provoked. Not really.”

He was shocked, sure. Irritated, amazed, appalled, disappointed. But not provoked. Kurapika was a fighter by nature. It was part of his creed not to attack unless struck first.

He just...hadn’t expected Leorio’s words to feel like a blow.

“Kurapika,” Melody started, her soft, pleasant voice interrupting his train of thought like the world’s nicest airhorn. “I’ve been wondering. What role did dissonance play in Kurta music?”

“What?” Kurapika asked, surprised and taken aback at the subject change. He frowned, considering the question. Melody was one of the few people who could get away with so blatantly asking Kurapika about his history and culture. Most people skulked around the subject like Kurapika was a literal landmine and he would explode if asked directly about it. People seemed to hear his tragic backstory about being the lone survivor of a Cat-5 attack from the infamous kaiju Spider and murmur about him with pity or speculation.

“Dissonance,” Melody said. “Defined in music as ‘a simultaneous combination of tones conventionally accepted as being in a state of unrest and needing completion; an unresolved, discordant chord or interval.’”

“I know what dissonance _is,”_ Kurapika said, still confused. “I just don’t get what this has to do with Leorio.”

“It’s the counterpart of consonance,” Melody went on. “Defined as ‘a simultaneous combination of tones conventionally accepted as being in a state of repose.’ Sounds that clash, sounds that harmonize.” She sipped her tea. “You and Leorio...separate, you are such lovely notes. Yet when put together, there is only discord. I wonder what would happen if you two were to try and...work together.”

Kurapika frowned. Melody was one of their best Hunter handlers and recruiters. Before the kaiju attacked, she was a world-famous, brilliant composer and flutist. She had a knack for “listening” to people’s hearts (or souls, or something?) and picking pairs who she thought would be drift compatible, and urban legend was she had never been wrong. Melody had taken a single look at newcomer Gon and put him together with veteran Killua for training. They learned they were drift compatible in about three hours. Kurapika’s eyes went wide as he understood what she was implying.

“Wait,” Kurapika said, “You learn that Leorio and I had a fight, and you want to throw us in the drift sim?”

“That would be closer to Bisky’s style,” Melody said, smiling at the thought of her work partner. Melody looked for the consonance in Hunters’ souls, Bisky for the chemistry and flow in their movements. Both were needed to make drift partners that truly excelled. “But you have another test for drift compatibility coming up, yes? Perhaps you should invite him.”

“Does Leorio even _want_ to be a Hunter?” Kurapika asked. He had seen him in the exercise room a few times, but that had seemed more like just a regular workout rather than training.

“I don’t think you’ll know until you ask,” Melody said gently. She stood up to leave Kurapika to his thoughts, gently ruffling his hair as she passed. This casual touch, too, was a privilege Kurapika gifted only to a select few: her, Gon, Killua, Alluka...Leorio.

“I’ll think about it,” Kurapika lied.

~

“Come _ooooon,_ Leorio,” Gon whined. He leaned over Leorio’s back, his arms around Leorio’s neck. “It’ll be fun!”

“I need to study, Gon,” Leorio said distantly. He peeled Gon’s muscular arms off of him with practiced movements, not even looking away from his textbook.

“You’re always studying, old man,” Killua said. “It’s why your back is bent like a tree.”

“At least I _remember_ trees.”

“I’ve seen pictures,” Killua said. He caught the back of Gon’s shirt as he went in to complain in Leorio’s ear again. “But getting out of the medical wing might do you some good.”

“I’m not interested in watching Kurapika find a drift partner,” Leorio said distantly. He reached for his cup of coffee and sipped. It was cold, sitting like sludge on his tongue. He made a face and tossed the cup in the trash.

“Did you two have a fight?” Gon asked.

“Are you _jealous?”_ Killua added, smirking his little-shit grin. He looked like a scheming cartoon cat.

“I am not jealous,” Leorio insisted.

“So you _did_ have a fight,” Gon deduced. “What about?”

Leorio thought back, remembering the affronted expression on Kurapika’s face, the judgement and disappointment in his gray eyes, the way his irises seemed to glow red in his ire. The surprising wave of hurt and insult Leorio felt when Kurapika slung the word _selfish_ in his face. They had not spoken outside of Leorio’s checkup questions over the past week. Kurapika did not try to spark any conversation or pick any fights with him, either. Leorio found that as irritating as the bickering was in the moment, he missed their banter now that it was gone.

“Nothing,” Leorio assured the kid. Not that they were _kids,_ not really - but they weren’t even twenty-one. The years between twenty and twenty-five didn’t really make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. But Leorio had walked into the Hunter Association’s main base of operations in Yorknew City and seen the frigid way Killua stalked the halls, the way Alluka slipped about timid and shy, the way Gon searched for the father who had abandoned him, and decided, _well, guess I’m their dad, now._

Gon thought it was sweet but ultimately unnecessary. Killua shirked Leorio’s warmth at every turn, but Leorio had a sense the brat appreciated it more than words could say. Alluka drank in his hugs and support and the way he never slipped on her name or pronouns and clung to him like a lifeline.

“You should go,” Cheadle said, stepping out of her office. She smiled at the trio and adjusted her glasses. “You could use a break. Or, if you refuse the break, I’ll gently encourage you to attend as medic-on-standby for the fights. You know how... _spirited_ those can get.”

Leorio sighed. If even _Cheadle_ insisted he go, then he really didn’t have a choice. “Yes, ma’am.”

At the very least, he could swing by the cafeteria and get one of the fancy coffees from the nice machine they had on base, which was second only to Hisoka’s personal stores. Leorio wasn’t quite _that_ desperate for his caffeine fix.

This must have been the kids’ plan all along, because as soon as they were halfway to the cafeteria, Alluka intercepted them in the hallway. She ‘just happened’ to have a second cappuccino prepared exactly the way Leorio preferred, down to the cinnamon on top. This made Leorio’s cranky demeanor soften, and he put an arm around her shoulders and rubbed his palm over the top of her head in thanks. The pink glass beads in her hair tinkled softly as they clacked together.

The main workout room was almost at capacity, but Leorio made his way in by announcing he was the medic on call. Gon and Killua were practically celebrities with their renown in Hellion Whale, and no one could say no to Alluka (especially with Killia glowering over her shoulder). Leorio made his way to the middle of the front row, sitting cross-legged on the floor in an ungainly tangle of long limbs. Alluka sat on his right, Killua his left, Gon half-on Killua’s lap. On the other side of the room sat the drift compatibility judges, Bisky and Melody. Bisky was speaking to Kurapika, her high blonde pigtails curling to her waist and shaking with whatever she was emphatically saying to Kurapika, but Melody smiled and waved at him.

Leorio’s smile felt a bit more genuine as he grinned and sent her a salute.

A few moments later, Bisky’s bellowing yell cut through the din: “Quiet!”

The pilots, techs, administrators, and recruits fell silent. Bisky studied them all and spoke.

“As you all know, this is a drift compatibility test for one of our top hunter pilots, Kurapika. While this is a test designed to see if any of our numerous recruits are compatible with him, this will also be a first opportunity for your instructors to see who in our new class is drift compatible. There will be no time limit to these matches. First to four points wins. I expect you all to behave with exemplary sportsmanship befitting a hunter.”

“Because Kurapika broke about a dozen fingers last time,” Killua stage-whispered. A smattering of chortles and murmurs broke out across the room at his words. Leorio rolled his eyes, because obviously he knew that. He had patched up half of them. Bisky ordered them all to shut up, and Kurapika acted like he hadn’t heard anything.

Leorio watched as Kurapika stepped onto the sparring mat. Cheadle had officially cleared him for the drift compatibility matches, though Kurapika’s arms were still bandaged to protect his healing skin. He wore the plain white linens that typically went under his Kurta garb and was barefoot. The only spark of color on him was the single red gemstone dangling from his left ear. Kurapika ignored the yelling crowd and tilted his head side to side, stretching his neck. Leorio watched the way his muscles grew taught, the way his hair fell across his forehead. He carelessly, effortlessly swung his bo staff around him, testing its weight. He was the epitome of control in that moment, all eyes in the room on him and he acted like he noticed none of it.

“Put your eyes back in your head, you horny old man,” Killua muttered to Leorio, digging his elbow into Leorio’s ribs. Leorio swatted him back irritably and buried his face in his coffee cup. If he noticed them at all, Kurapika did not show it.

“I wonder what the book says,” Alluka said softly. Leorio tore his eyes away from the sparring mat, his brow wrinkling in confusion.

“Book?”

“The betting book.” Alluka inclined her head towards the wall, where Hisoka was lounging back with a spiral-bound notebook in his hands. In his tailored purple suit, the sleeves of his dark blue collared shirt rolled to the elbows, his pink hair gelled to a forty-five degree angle above his head, he looked less like the world’s foremost expert on kaiju and more like a Joker knock-off. As if he felt their gaze on him, Hisoka’s bright yellow eyes flickered in their direction. A frigid but altogether too-familiar smile curled his lips, and he beamed widely at them. Alluka broke eye contact, looking down at her mug, but Leorio glared at the scientist until Hisoka shrugged and turned back to his book.

“What are people betting on?” Leorio asked Alluka, gently drawing her back out of her shell.

“Anything, really,” Alluka said.

“How many wins Kurapika will get, how many matches will be total shutouts, how many touches each of his opponents will get, whether Kurapika will find a drift partner,” Killua listed.

“Who that partner will be, who will get hurt and how, how long different matches and sets will go,” Gon added. “Who will end up drift partners after this.”

“Hm,” Leorio hummed. “People really are bored around here.”

The first recruit was stepping forward, swinging his staff in a series of wide arcs. The man was younger than Kurapika, but twice his size in terms of bulk. Cheers and jeers in equal measure erupted around the room.

 _Oh, man,_ Leorio mused. _This kid’s about to get his ass kicked._

Kurapika won this first round without even breaking a sweat. He used his smaller stature to his advantage, keeping low to the ground and making his opponent stoop to reach him. Which left him off-balance, unused to taking on such a petite opponent, and then Kurapika only needed to drop low and sweep his opponent’s leg from beneath him to topple him to the ground. The match was over in two minutes, a complete shutout in Kurapika’s favor.

Then came the second match. This, too, was a complete victory for Kurapika. The third was a bit touchier, but Kurapika still won 4-2. It seemed he was taking no prisoners as he efficiently fought his way through five, ten recruits. He was a powerhouse of the likes of Gon and Killua, barely pausing to breathe before calling up his next opponent.

From the flush on his face, the pinched look in his eyes, Kurapika seemed annoyed that this was taking so long. Not for the first time, Leorio wondered if Kurapika even wanted a drift partner. The idea seemed incongruous with Kurapika’s lone-wolf nature. Aside from a few spare moments when Leorio came across him spending time with Killua and Gon, Leorio didn’t think Kurapika had any friends on base. Everything about him seemed endlessly focused, like a finely-honed weapon.

He was driven, Leorio could give him that. Even if his eagerness to fight cut him off from anything else, leaving him to concentrate solely on training and studying kaiju. Then again, Leorio’s three friends were a bunch of kids five to seven years younger than he was, and where Kurapika trained to fight, Leorio trained to suture quickly and efficiently. Where Kurapika studied kaiju, Leorio studied medicine.

Maybe they weren’t so different.

Or maybe Kurapika was catching him staring and raising a single blond eyebrow before imperiously tossing his hair out of his face and calling for his next opponent.

“Damn, Leorio,” Killua said. “When did you piss in Kurapika’s cereal?”

“Kurapika doesn’t eat breakfast, Killua,” Gon said cheerfully.

“He _what?”_ Leorio demanded. Alluka giggled into her cup of coffee.

“He’s gotten better since you met,” she assured Leorio. “I know it doesn’t seem like it…” She paused when Kurapika slung his opponent over his shoulder to throw them bodily to the ground. The crowd erupted into cheers and yells. “...But he’s really lightened up since he met you.”

“Huh,” Leorio said. Kurapika sent off this opponent and beckoned the next forward with a quirk of his fingers. The powerful energy emanating from around him was alluring and intimidating and all the more attractive for it. “You’re right. I don’t believe it.”

“Just kiss him and get over yourself,” Killua grumbled.

 _“What -?”_ Leorio half-yelled. He felt himself going red.

“Worked for us,” Gon said. He pressed his lips to Killua’s temple. Killua went red as a stoplight (and almost as bright) but he didn’t shove Gon away like he would have for anyone else in the entire world. “See?”

“Sure, kiddos,” Leorio said. He didn’t have the heart to explain that wasn’t quite the way the world worked. That despite the cruelty life had showered upon them both individually, they had each been given a balm against the ills of the world by finding each other.

Dammit if Leorio didn’t still wish he could, _hope_ he could, find that again one day.

Kurapika was growing tired. Leorio could tell. In his rush to get this over with and his refusal to take breaks, he was growing weary. Perhaps he had not anticipated the drift test drawing such a crowd. The room was even fuller now as people had snuck in midway through, which heated the training hall considerably. Kurapika’s face was flushed a bright cherry red, beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks. His movements were - not _sloppy,_ but it was clear Kurapika was growying weary as his movements slowed. Perhaps it was because the hour was growing late and they were down to the last five recruits and no one had even come close to beating him. There was less chemistry between Kurapika and his partners than between Leorio and Hisoka. Aside from handing out a few bandages and wrapping a twisted ankle, Leorio didn’t even have much to _do._

Not until the final bout, when there was a tangle of limbs as Kurapika went for the final pin. The recruit flung out her arms to regain balance as she toppled over. Her elbow collided with Kurapika’s face with an audible _crack._ Blood started to pour from Kurapika’s nose, dripping down his face and onto his shirt and chin.

People started to yell, already trying to collect on bets, but Bisky blew her whistle in one sharp, loud burst that silenced the room.

“Some decorum, please,” Bisky said. She surveyed them all. “That concludes this round of drift compatibility testing. Recruits, you will be informed of any potential drift partners in three days’ time. All of you clear out, and take any _business_ that you have -” she sent Hisoka a glare; he blew a bubble the size of his face until it popped audibly. “-outside. Kurapika, see the medic for that nose.”

Kurapika nodded shortly. His sleeve was clenched around his nose. Already the white fabric was stained red.

“Well,” Gon said cheerfully, popping up and dragging Killua with him. “We best be off.”

“Why?” Leorio asked.

“You heard Bisky! Time to clear out.” Gon’s smile was too wide and innocent as he looped his arms through Killua’s and Alluka’s. Except Killua looked exactly like that old meme of a cat leering at the knife being held in its face, and Alluka was beaming at him. She mouthed _“good luck!”_ as Gon steered them all out of the room.

Leorio was spared from saying anything when an exhausted, slack-limbed Kurapika collapsed across from him.

“Leorio,” he said by way of greeting.

“Kurapika,” Leorio said back. He was already automatically sanitizing his hands and gloving up as he studied Kurapika’s face. “How do you feel?”

“Pain. Hot. Sweaty. Annoyed,” Kurapika listed. “Don’t want to talk.”

“Fine by me,” Leorio said. He reached forward, gently pushing back the sweaty bangs that clung to Kurapika’s forehead out of his way. He started to wipe away the blood with some gauze. “I’m going to have to probe this a little bit to make sure it’s not broken. Please don’t punch me.”

“I wouldn’t _punch_ you,” Kurapika said snippily. Leorio raised an eyebrow at him, but before Kurapika could say anything more, Leorio gently ran his fingers over Kurapika’s face. He already knew that Kurapika had good bone structure, but something about running his fingers over the delicate slope of his cheeks, the graceful curve of his nose, was intimate in a way very little had been in Leorio’s life since he came to base. He probed gently, and while Kurapika hissed in pain and reflexively pulled back, Leorio was pleased to report that nothing seemed broken.

“Just pinch your nose and lean forward until the bleeding stops,” Leorio instructed, handing Kurapika a stack of gauze.

“A true healer,” Kurapika mumbled under his breath. Leorio glared balefully at him.

“Back to picking fights, are we?”

It wasn’t fair for him to take out his hurt feelings on Kurapika, Leorio knew. But he was already tired and irritated from Gon and Killua’s meddling (never Alluka’s, the sweetheart) and Kurapika’s shitty mood.

Kurapika blinked. “Said like a man picking one himself.”

“I’m not,” Leorio insisted. He chugged the last dregs of his coffee. “I’m just sick of your bullshit.”

 _“My_ bullshit?” Kurapika said. “Says the man who can’t get through a sentence without saying something crass or swearing. Do you know you’re my least favorite medic?”

“I’m the _only_ medic who sees you,” Leorio scoffed. “The rest don’t want to deal with your temper. Remember when you almost punched me in the face?”

“Yes, because you were touching me when I was _asleep_ -”

“I was _stitching you_ so you would _stop bleeding,_ you melodramatic _fucker -”_

“And now back to the swearing. It’s a shame you can’t buy class or propriety with all that money you’re hoarding,” Kurapika sneered. “Is that why you had to be a medic here? None of the real med schools would take you?”

Leorio blinked. “Alright. See, here’s the thing: you don’t get to just say whatever the hell you want because you’re my patient and some hotshot solo Hunter pilot. Get the hell up.”

He pushed himself to his feet and started yanking his sneakers off. First his shoes, then his socks, then the zippered jacket he wore over his scrubs.

“Don’t order me around,” Kurapika snapped. Still, he dropped his bloodstained gauze into the trash and rinsed his hands off with the hand sanitizer. He shoved his bloodstained sleeves up to his elbows.

“Don’t order _me_ around,” Leorio snapped. He tossed a bo staff to Kurapika and lifted up one himself. He whirled it around him, testing its weight, feeling his muscles stretch and warm up. Leorio knew that this was a bad idea, had just watched Kurapika tear down dozens of opponents in much better shape than he was over the past hour. There was no way Leorio could win whatever fight he was starting. But he was _so sick_ of Kurapika’s snide comments and holier-than-thou horseshit, and if Leorio needed to take a few blows to finally just swing on Kurapika like he wanted, so be it.

“You’re joking,” Kurapika said. “I’ve trained in martial arts since I could walk. You want to _fight?”_

“Hell yeah I do.” Leorio didn’t tell Kurapika that he had been fighting for almost as long, for himself and Pietro and his family and the scraps of food and medicine and shelter the world might allow him. He wasn’t anywhere near Kurapika’s or Killua’s or Gon’s levels, but he was big and scrappy and pissed as hell.

“Rules of engagement?” Kurapika asked. He pushed his bangs back from his face, palming drying blood through his hair.

“Hits between the neck and knees are fair game, with the exception of the groin. I’m a gentleman,” Leorio said.

“According to whom?” Kurapika asked. Leorio grit his teeth and held his staff in front of him. Kurapika studied him. “You’re clutching the staff too tightly. And you’re too stiff.”

“Are you always this much of a know-it-all?” Leorio snapped. He stepped forward, swinging, testing Kurapika’s defenses and stamina following his fights. Kurapika blocked him easily, smirking like a cat who was delighted to have a new mouse to play with.

“Only when my opponent is at such a disadvantage,” Kurapika said breezily. “It wouldn’t be sporting if I didn’t offer some constructive criticism.”

“Construct this,” Leorio threatened, and he swung for Kurapika’s burned side. Kurapika blocked his swing without blinking.

“An obvious attempt on my ‘weak’ side, the swing was too wide, and your stance is all wrong. Observe.” Kurapika moved closer, sidestepping Leorio’s defenses. For a moment they were face-to-face, nearly nose-to-nose. Kurapika smirked up at him, as if sensing the way Leorio momentarily froze from the proximity, and then he caught Leorio’s wrist and swung him deftly over his back to land in a heap at his feet. Kurapika hovered above him, hands on his knees, grinning like the smug little asshole he was.

“That’s one-zero. Do you understand?”

Leorio didn’t reply. Instead, he reached up to snag at Kurapika’s ankle. He twisted the joint, just enough to throw Kurapika off-balance and fall onto his ass. Leorio swung his staff up, stopping it just below Kurapika’s chin. “One-one.”

Kurapika studied him for another moment. Then he smiled, something competitive and dangerous alighting in his eyes. They kept on like that for some time - Leorio stopped keeping track of their points, even though Kurapika snobbishly, gleefully pointed out every time he earned a point, every time Leorio made a mistake. It was certainly annoying, and it wasn’t very sportsmanlike, but under the gloating Leorio realized Kurapika really was teaching him. Sweat ran down Leorio’s face and his muscles burned and his fingers were sore from their staffs clattering together, but he was -

_\- grinning._

He couldn’t believe it: here he was, fighting tooth-and-nail with smug, annoying Kurapika in the middle of the night, his arms and legs getting bruised from Kurapika smacking him and from falling to the mat. But Leorio got a few good hits on Kurapika, sending him stumbling and then raring back into the fight. Kurapika was glorious like this, furious and flushed, his eyes shining and he was trying _so hard_ not to smile, too. Leorio could tell from the way he pursed his lips.

When was the last time he had seen Kurapika smile, Leorio wondered? When had he _ever_ seen Kurapika smile beyond a brief twitch of his mouth for politeness’s sake, beyond a perfunctory morning greeting?

When was the last time _Leorio_ felt like this? Hot and alive and - and _happy._ He was happy here, happier than he had been in a long time, feinting and swearing and sweating on this sparring mat, getting better with every swing as muscle memory from his old training once upon a time resurged. He even got a few good, unequivocable hits on Kurapika.

At last, Leorio managed to wrest the staff from Kurapika’s grip, sending it to bounce and clatter away across the room. He swung, stopping his staff a centimeter from Kurapika’s temple. Leorio smirked down his staff, meeting his opponent’s gaze. Kurapika swallowed.

“Do _you_ understand, sunshine?”

Kurapika’s lip curled. Then he moved, snatching Leorio’s staff and twisting it out of his hands. He ducked, hooking his leg behind Leorio’s knee and sending him crashing onto his back. Suddenly Kurapika was on top of him, legs straddling Leorio’s stomach and pinning the staff over Leorio’s neck. He pressed down - not hard enough to cut off Leorio’s airway, and there was plenty of room for Leorio to catch onto the bar - but enough to very clearly indicate that this match was _over_ and that Kurapika was the unarguable _winner._

Kurapika leaned down until he and Leorio were almost nose-to-nose. _“Don’t._ Call me. _Sunshine.”_

Leorio couldn’t speak. Kurapika was close enough his hair brushed against Leorio’s face. He was close enough for Leorio to see the freckles that spackled his nose and cheeks, to see the flecks of ruby in his deep gray eyes. He opened his mouth to reply but had no idea what to say. Kurapika watched the motion, the way Leorio swallowed thickly, followed the line of sweat as it pooled in the hollow of his throat. For a moment, Leorio swore Kurapika’s eyes flashed red.

“Gentlemen?”

Kurapika rolled off of Leorio so quickly he might have been burned. Both men jumped to their feet, palming sweat off of their faces and adjusting their fight-mussed clothes. Bisky stood in the doorway, her head tilted to the side as she studied them consideringly. “What is happening here?”

Leorio’s mouth opened. “I - we -”

“Leorio was helping me,” Kurapika cut across him. “He has assured me of the importance of sparring regularly to ensure my burns heal properly with little detrimental effects.”

Bisky lifted a brow. “After you sparred for over an hour?”

“I wasn’t tired,” Kurapika lied. Leorio’s mouth fell open at the total, blatant, obvious lie to a superior.

Leorio expected to see an example of Bisky’s famous temper. Killua and Gon certainly had enough horror stories about her training. But Biskey only smirked at them.

“In that case, I’d like to see you do some mental sparring tomorrow afternoon. Meet Melody and me at 1300 hours in the simulation room.”

“The _simulation -”_ Leorio and Kurapika squawked together.

“The simulation room,” Bisky confirmed. She studied them both again and then nodded, as if agreeing with herself. “Let’s see if we can’t get you two in a jaeger after all.”

Bisky flounced off in a flick of long hair and a twirl of her pink dress. Leorio caught Kurapika’s eye, staring wordlessly. Without another word, Kurapika swept out of the room.

~

Kurapika wondered whether it would count as desertion if he just left the base.

His leg bounced anxiously as he sat on the edge of his bed. What was he _thinking?_ Baiting Leorio, letting _himself_ be baited in turn? Bickering and fighting and - and _liking it,_ liking it more than he had liked anything in a very, very long time.

And then he remembered when he had Leorio pinned beneath him, long, lean limbs pressed against his body -

Kurapika slapped at his cheeks, yanking himself out of his thoughts as if he could escape them. As if he could forget the realization if he buried it deep enough. As if he wasn’t due at the drift sim in thirty minutes, and then Leorio would see _everything._

Kurapika knew about the drift, knew how to meld his mind with metal and pilot his jaeger to do whatever he wanted it to. But he had never found someone drift compatible with him, never met anyone who even got to this point. And now here he was, panicking and thinking about running away because he had spent years by himself, holding others at arm’s length, and now Leorio was about to know his every cruel and uncharitable thought. Every quickly-repressed spark of affection Kurapika had felt for him.

It was terrifying. Infinitely more frightening than any kaiju he could imagine.

Why didn’t he lie? Why didn’t he say Leorio started it, and stomp out? Why didn’t he just wipe the floor with Leorio’s stupid face in the first match and be done with it? Now Bisky and Melody were going to watch as Kurapika melted inside. At least _they_ would not see whatever he and Leorio saw in the drift. He would escape with that much dignity.

Maybe Bisky was wrong, and they weren’t compatible at all. Maybe they would turn on the simulator for five seconds, everything would break, and then they would be fine and never talk about this again.

Kurapika sighed, standing up to go. That was infinitely more likely. It was preferable. He would not be disappointed if that happened, if it turned out Kurapika really wasn’t compatible with anyone. He didn’t even want to be, not at all (not until last night).

He _wouldn’t._

Kurapika was early to the simulation room. Melody was the only other person already there, and she beamed up at Kurapika when he entered.

“I’m so pleased you’ve found someone to test the drift with, Kurapika,” she greeted as if she hadn’t seen this coming. “How do you feel?”

 _Nauseous. Anxious. Hopeful._ “Fine,” Kurapika said as Bisky entered. She peered around, tutting softly when she saw Leorio still missing.

“I give him five minutes,” Bisky announced. “Our time is valuable, and he will make a poor hunter if he can’t even make it to a meeting in a timely fashion.”

Kurapika opened his mouth, twin feelings of relief and protectiveness warring in equal measure. But before he could decide which would win, the door opened again.

“Sorry, so sorry! I wanted to check Pokkle one last time before I discharged him and he spiked a fever in the night. He’s fine, I gave him some meds, you don’t care,” Leorio rambled before he sheepishly trailed off. He lifted a single hand to rub at the back of his neck.

“Why -?” Kurapika’s throat was dry. He tried to clear it without anyone noticing. “Why are you dressed for a job interview?”

“What, this?” Leorio asked, looking down at himself. At his fitted dress shirt, his long blue slacks, his navy tie. His tailored blazer was slung over one shoulder. “How else would I dress? What is this, if not a job interview?”

Self-consciously, Kurapika glanced down at himself and his casual Kurta robes. All he could think was that in about ten minutes Leorio was going to know that Kurapika took a single look at the way his shoulders filled out his shirt and his mental jaw hit the floor. Maybe he could suddenly spring a migraine or an aneurism.

“You look very handsome, Leorio,” Melody greeted.

 _“Thank_ you, Melody,” Leorio said, taking his seat across from Kurapika. He caught Kurapika’s stare and sent him a small smile, drumming his fingers over the table.

 _He’s nervous too,_ Kurapika suddenly realized. That fact comforted him some. If Leorio felt even a shred of the nerves and anticipation he did, then maybe this wouldn’t go horribly.

Bisky walked them through the process Kurapika knew by heart. They would be suited up like they were going on a mission and strapped into the simulator. Melody would initiate the drift. They were going to dive in, minds melding or rejecting one another utterly. They would test the drift for two minutes, and if they weren’t immediately kicked out, they would start again tomorrow and begin training.

But before then, Kurapika had to walk calmly into a side room and put on his suit. He had to stand outside the simulator room door beside Leorio, who stood head and shoulders above him in a suit that reminded Kurapika that he was _really_ quite handsome and almost dashing when he shut the hell up.

“Ready, sunshine?” Leorio asked.

Kurapika grit his teeth against the endearment. It was warm, too familiar, like a blanket or a hammock and Kurapika _hated it_ because he was supposed to be a lone wolf on the hunt for revenge, his entire life and soul and purpose for existing finding the kaiju Spider and ripping its legs off one by one. And that Leorio could quell this wrath without even knowing, without trying, with just a _word_ \- Kurapika hated it. He hated it and feared it and so, by extension, he hated and feared Leorio.

“Fuck off.”

“Can’t do that,” Leorio said. The doors opened, and the two stepped into the room. Kurapika latched on his helmet and heard Leorio doing the same thing six feet away. “Hey.”

 _“What?”_ Kurapika snapped. Leorio did not answer, seeming to wait until Kurapika looked at him. Kurapika glared at him sidelong.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Leorio said. “I barely slept last night.”

His tone changed, became softer, more vulnerable. “I never thought I would try this. I guess you’re about to know why. But just so you know - if it was going to happen, I think I’m glad it was you.”

Kurapika’s eyes were wide, his lips parted slightly. Leorio met his gaze, only earnest. Kurapika wanted to say something, to confess, _I never thought I would really get here; I think I’m glad it was you, too,_ but Melody spoke over them, counting down to the moment she would initiate the drift.

Kurapika had asked Gon and Killua what initiating a drift felt like. They described it through a series of different metaphors: a car streaming along a highway, a fish swimming up a river, a leaf floating in a breeze. To Kurapika it was like a flower blooming, petals endlessly folding out and out and out.

He closed his eyes as the images came to him, disjointed -

_A one-story home of wooden floors and tatami mats, running after a kindly woman with blond hair like his, a man with gray eyes - they call out to him and it’s all wrong, wrong, wrong name wrong clothes wrong body am I wrong, too - relief at learning none of this is wrong, at hearing his mother gently tell him that sometimes souls aren’t put in the right containers, and she takes him to see the local tailor, the general store owner, the minister, and they tell him he is just perfect the way he is, let’s cut your hair here are some new clothes what do you want us to call you - Kurapika, Kurapika, welcome -_

_And then the scene changes, the cherry grove orchard smashed to bits, chunks of wood floating in stagnant, brackish water, and the air shivers with screams and pain and everything is red, red, red, red water red blood red sky all he sees is red, he wonders if he will ever see anything else ever again or if his world will be filtered through crimson forever, and he hopes for it and fears it -_

Kurapika swallowed, breathing a shaky breath in and out. He could not bog down the drift with these memories. He felt Leorio on the other side of the connection, considering, realizing, and then -

_Alluka is beaming up at Leorio as he carefully instructs her on how to inject her thigh, showing her how to wash her hands and prep the muscle and discard the needle, and over her shoulder sits a dewy-eyed Killua with Gon’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind, chin on Killua’s shoulder -_

_Then they stand on a dirty, dusty, sunny street. The buildings are dilapidated, aged, listing to the side with tin roofs. The air is hazy with heat. A little boy with Leorio’s grin runs through Kurapika, hand in hand with another boy, and the love and trust and hope Leorio feels toward this boy with a gap-toothed grin is so strong and true it almost bowls Kurapika over._

_And the scene changes, and Leorio stands in front of a little dirt grave alone, and he puts a wilted flower on the ground and Leorio’s grief echoing through the years meets with, mingles with, harmonizes with Kurapika’s, discordant notes resolving into something so strong and true -_

_Years pass in a montage of Kurapika training with weapons, of Leorio reading every medical text he can get his hands on, and they are alone, alone, alone; of each them stumbling through grief and rage and finding the Hunter Association - meeting a freckle-faced boy with a smile like the sun and anguish in his chest, a white-haired boy who was told he was nothing but a Hunter until love touched his heart and he opened out and out and out, a girl whose family insisted she wasn’t until Killua swept her away, until she saw Kurapika washing his binders by hand, until Leorio punched her brother._

_Next he sees - and here the drift shudders, Kurapika reflexively trying to snatch the memories before they leak through - a sleepy Kurapika sits in the mess hall corner, sipping coffee and nodding off over Hisoka’s latest stat reports on kaiju, and a man walks past his table, tall and broad-shouldered, his muscles visible through his scrubs, his forearms bared and flexed as he holds his breakfast tray, and Gon says something that makes him laugh and his olive-toned skin shines in the lights and off of his glasses, and he has dimples and he is scruffy and Kurapika’s heart seizes - he awakes and the man is stitching his side shut, and he is named Leorio and he is annoying and loud and crass and patient and warm and kind and Kurapika wants to bury himself in those dark eyes and feel the peace this man carries with him like a fresh breeze, and Kurapika hates him and fears him because he does not know who he was without his need for revenge._

_Leorio sends him a soft chuckle across the drift connection, kind and not mocking, because he is Leorio and he would never - and then Kurapika sees himself in a way he never had, from the outside looking in, the way Leorio sees him - and a face Kurapika is indifferent to on a good day and loathes on a bad becomes handsome, enchanting, arresting, blond hair floating around his head as he spins in a kick - lips quirking into a resigned smile like he couldn’t hold it back (because he couldn’t, he couldn’t and he didn’t think he wanted to) - he stands on a training room floor whirling a bo staff around his frame, the very definition of power and poise and effortless control -_

_And the world spins around them, Leorio seeing himself through Kurapika’s eyes and Kurapika through Leorio’s, images different but the feelings the same - dissonance in heartbreak and loneliness and grief and loss and rage became consonance in empathy, understanding, knowing and seeing and recognizing._

And then it stopped. Kurapika gasped, realizing he had forgotten to breathe for the past - how long had it been? Minutes, days? He heard techs coming in to unclasp him and Leorio from their docking stations.

 _Leorio._ Kurapika’s heart seized. Asinine Leorio, hiding such grief; kind Leorio, holding onto such anger; warm and friendly Leorio, so alone in crowds of admirers; handsome Leorio, who knew Kurapika thought he was hot as hell and _he felt the same for Kurapika, what, what the fuck, how, what - ?_

“Drift simulation successful,” Melody hummed through the speakers. Kurapika wanted to laugh at the understatement. It felt as if something had opened in Kurapika’s chest, like someone had reached in and touched Kurapika’s soul. “We’ll start training tomorrow. Leorio, Bisky and I will talk to Cheadle about your schedule. Please take today to rest. The first drift is surprisingly exhausting.”

“Will do,” Leorio said, his voice somewhat strangled. “Thank you, Melody.”

“Yes,” Kurapika echoed. “Thank you.”

Kurapika followed Leorio out the door. He planned to go straight to his bedroom and panic, or to go to the training room and swing his wooden swords until he couldn’t move, but then he heard -

“Kurapika.”

 _Fuck, no, we are not talking about this,_ Kurapika decided as he turned to Leorio. He hated how short he was, how he had to crane his neck back just to meet Leorio’s stupid face. The top of his head didn’t even brush Leorio’s chin.

Leorio was studying him the same way Kurapika was, he was sure: like they had never seen one another before, like they had been passing like ships in the night for months without ever truly meeting. Because they had.

Leorio cleared his throat. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Can we...can we start over again?”

His voice cracked on the last word. Kurapika realized he was _nervous,_ and it almost made him laugh. His whole soul bared, and _Leorio_ still seemed unsure of himself.

Kurapika held out a hand. “We can. My name is Kurapika. It looks like we’re going to be drift partners.”

Leorio grinned, wide and sharp and all angles and Kurapika’s stomach flipped. “Leorio. I look forward to working with you.”

His hand was strong and firm in his, warm even through the layers of material. It was as natural in Kurapika’s as his swords and bo staff and coffee cup.

~

Once they hit reset - once they peered into one another’s heads and realized that their broken hearts were actually playing the same melodies - Leorio found that Kurapika was very easy to be around.

He was stubborn and had an understated, dry sense of humor that riled and amused Leorio in equal measure. He was clever, if prone to overthinking and overanalyzing every piece of information he came across. He took himself too seriously and was a terrible sport when it came to their now-daily sparring sessions. But he was a thorough, capable teacher, endlessly patient when Leorio’s lanky limbs failed to exert the same control Kurapika had. He put up with Leorio’s reminders that he needed to do human activities such as eat and sleep (though he also, on multiple occasions, would track down Leorio in the medical bay at two in the morning and shunt him off to sleep in an actual bed). He actually started to come to meals regularly, joining Leorio, Gon, Killua, and Alluka.

One morning after an intense sparring session in the gym where Leorio was thoroughly defeated by Kurapika, Gon, and Killua (the latter of which just felt like piling on, if he was honest), he showered and made his way off to his kaiju study sessions with Kurapika. For all of his medical studies (or rather, because of them), Leorio was woefully uninformed about the varied nature of the Hunters’ enemies. Kurapika and Killua had taken it upon themselves to catch Leorio up, though this task largely fell to Kurapika.

Between studying kaiju and medicine, training, and his medical duties, Leorio’s brain often felt like an oversaturated sponge. Cheadle offered to reduce his hours in the infirmary, but the Association was already spread thin on medics, so he felt he couldn’t step away.

Leorio sighed, rubbing a hand his forehead over what felt like a near-constant tension headache. He was running ahead of time, so he decided to swing by the research labs to pick up the latest kaiju reports. Maybe he would learn something from the diagrams and tanks of viscous goo holding half-alive specimens.

There was no one around when Leorio let himself into the research lab. The lights were dim, almost warm, casting a strangely homey light on the dozen large tanks and innumerable smaller samples. Leorio frowned as he walked around, examining hides, scales, claws, brains, tentacles, gills, limbs, eyes.

“Ah,” said a sudden voice behind Leorio. He started so badly he nearly knocked over the tank he was examining, losing track of the number of eyes he had been counting (he made it to twenty-three). The interloper did not react beyond his lips curling into an even wider smile.

“So _you’re_ the one who has been so occupying Kurapika’s time,” Hisoka said. He lounged against a massive tank full of piss-yellow liquid and tentacles. “He hasn’t been to visit me in _ages.”_

Leorio rolled his eyes. “He picked up reports from you last week.”

“Exactly,” Hisoka said with a smirk. He pushed off of the tank and sashayed towards Leorio. Leorio stood his ground when Hisoka stopped just in front of him. Hisoka was one of the few men on base taller than Leorio, and he seemed to revel in their height difference as he peered down at Leorio. He brought a pointed, acrylic nail up to Leorio’s face as if to stroke his jaw. “I suppose I can understand the charm. Scruffy, cranky men with hearts of gold and unexpected muscles seem like something he would go for.”

Leorio stepped back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hisoka smirked. “Gossip gets around, Leorio. Especially about the hunter pilots. Best get used to the speculation.”

_“Hisoka!”_

As one, Leorio and Hisoka turned to the open doorway, where Kurapika was standing in the doorway. He looked two parts flustered and one part pissed, and Leorio had to stop himself from sighing in relief at his good timing. Kurapika stalked further into the room to snatch the kaiju reports sitting innocuously on the table.

“Are you done harassing Leorio?”

Hisoka smirked. “I don’t want to be.”

“You are,” Leorio muttered. He took advantage of Hisoka’s distraction and joined Kurapika, trying not to look like he wanted to sprint out of the room and shower.

“Very well,” Hisoka sighed. “No harm, no foul. I never took you for the jealous type, Kurapika.”

Kurapika flushed to the roots of his hair, but he made no attempt to reply beyond curling his lip and spinning on his heel to stalk out of the room. Leorio flipped Hisoka off before he rushed out after Kurapika, his long legs catching up to him in about two and a half steps. Kurapika said nothing as he somehow angrily glided down the halls, the back of his neck still red and his hair fluttering around his face from his speed. Leorio would have made a joke, or comment about how he shouldn’t take Hisoka too seriously, except then he recalled their first day in the drift. The utter shock he had felt when he learned that Kurapika, who Leorio had figured was indifferent to him at best, had in fact been harboring what was best described as a massive crush on him since they had met.

Which was...not terrible, actually. It explained a lot. It also helped that Leorio hadn’t needed to actually say anything, not when all he had to do was turn his mind to him in the drift and show Kurapika, _it’s okay, don’t freak out, I feel it, too._

But the gasp of panic Leorio had felt from his partner as the images flew through the drift, the way Kurapika so clearly kept a stranglehold on all of his emotions lest he be distracted from his main quest, the way Kurapika both yearned for and rejected the warmth Leorio might have to offer - all of that combined to show Leorio that Kurapika was in no way, shape, or form ready to talk about this. And that was fine by Leorio.

He had already gained a drift partner and a friend through this process. He could wait to determine whatever else their relationship might become in time.

So Leorio lengthened his strides to catch up with Kurapika and say, “Anything interesting in the reports?”

“Hm? Oh,” Kurapika said, blinking himself back to reality and out of whatever thoughts had been flying through his head. He pulled his stack of files out from under his arm and opened the topmost one, burying his nose in it in a way that was as endearing as it was dangerous. Leorio carefully steered Kurapika through the hallways, nudging his shoulders this way and that lest he bump into passerby.

They arrived in the common area that Leorio had started to think of as theirs, joining Killua, Gon, and Alluka, who were playing some old video game that involved a lot of button-mashing and shouting and something called edge-guarding. Leorio sent Kurapika a look.

“Too loud for you?” He bit off the word _sunshine_ before it could slip out. He liked the endearment for Kurapika, but he also knew now that Kurapika’s dislike for the term was something more than just irritation with the pet name.

Kurapika shook his head, smiling at the kids’ antics. “This is fine. I’ve found I can concentrate better with noise than I initially thought.”

Leorio bit back a smile of his own as he sat in his usual spot at the lone desk in the room. He knew to interpret Kurapika’s words as, _perhaps I was more lonely than I thought I was._

The next few hours passed in quiet silence, at least between Leorio and Kurapika. They murmured their findings and opinions back and forth, exchanging diagrams and reports and predictions of when the next hit would come. Leorio frowned as he studied the reports.

“Kurapika,” he said. He glanced at his partner, forcing himself to focus on his train of thought and not the coil of Kurapika’s limbs in his armchair. He was wearing his casual Kurta clothes, pale skin set off by blue fabric and red embroidery, his feet tucked up beneath him. He looked comfortable, casual, relaxed in a way Leorio had never seen him before their partnership. Kurapika looked up from his papers. “Look at these numbers again and tell me what you think. I want to know if I’m going crazy.”

“You? Never,” Kurapika said, a wry twist to his lips even as he accepted the paper Leorio handed him. In the background, Gon was whining about Killua being a ledge-hog and Alluka unleashed a massive, multi-colored attack that sent the other two boys’ characters flying. The television yelled, _“GAME!”_

Kurapika acted like he heard none of it as he skimmed the paper. Leorio knew Kurapika had picked up on the same thing he had from the way Kurapika’s brow furrowed.

“The attacks are coming more frequently,” Leorio said. “It used to be once a month. Now it’s two to three times a month. And the kaiju -”

“ - their severity is increasing,” Kurapika intoned. “Category twos and threes used to be the norm. Category fives were - were nearly unheard of.” Leorio pretended to miss the catch in Kurapika’s voice. He continued on as if nothing had happened. “Now, the norm has shifted to threes and fours. I can’t remember the last time I fought a Category two.”

“Nor can I,” Leorio replied, just to watch Kurapika’s lips twitch.

“Of course,” he said easily. He twisted in his seat to look at the youths. “Killua, Gon? When was the last time you two fought a Category two kaiju?”

“A Cat two?” Killua said, not peeling his eyes from the screen. “No idea. A couple months, for sure.”

“At least six,” Gon agreed. “The last one was Firebellow, and that was almost a year ago. Why?”

“No reason,” Leorio and Kurapika answered at the same time. They exchanged glances, both surprised and communicating that they did not need to scare the younger ones with their half-baked theories.

But they knew - the kaiju were coming more often, their severity steadily increasing. From these forms, Leorio could see that their norms had changed, and even Category 5 attacks were on the rise. It had been nearly a year since the last Category 2 kaiju, and almost three years since the last Category 1.

Leorio leaned towards Kurapika. “Do you think the higher ups know?”

Kurapika glanced between Leorio and the kids. Seeming to decide that they could get away with a covert conversation, he leaned in, as well. He rested his folded arms on the desk next to Leorio, his chin on his arms. His bangs brushed over his forehead, and Leorio had to clench his hands tighter on the papers left he do something stupid like push Kurapika’s hair back.

“I can only think so,” Kurapika murmured. “Hisoka is a bastard, but he wouldn’t keep this to himself.”

“Wouldn’t he?” Leorio asked dryly. He lay his arms on his desk and mirrored Kurapika’s position, speaking quietly. Kurapika chuckled to himself.

“I think not. First, he needs this position if he wants to keep studying kaiju. Lying isn’t really in his best interest. Second, because stronger kaiju keep coming, he wants continued access. So he’s going to keep being honest with this, even if it’s just for himself.”

“Not sure that makes me feel better,” Leorio grumbled irritably. “I don’t think I trust Hisoka’s goodwill.”

Another soft laugh. “Nor I, to be honest. But there’s no one more brilliant than Hisoka when it comes to knowledge about kaiju.”

“That’s because he wants to make a frankenstein monstrosity out of spare parts and fuck it.”

Leorio expected Kurapika to glare at him for yet another example of his low-brow crassness. Indeed, Kurapika sent him a glare for that. Then his lip twitched, smile unfurling like a sunrise across his mouth, and he let out the loudest and most inelegant _snort_ Leorio had ever heard. Then Kurapika was laughing, from his stomach and chest and his face was a bright red and his grey eyes practically _glowed_ and Leorio was _enthralled._

“Boo,” Killua yelled from across the room. “Kiss!”

Leorio expected Kurapika to shut down his laughter like he was chopped at the knees. Instead, again to his surprise, that only spurred Kurapika to laugh harder.

“Not in front of you three, at least.”

Leorio’s mouth fell open in an unattractive gape. Kurapika met his gaze from his spot less than a foot away, looking relaxed and cheerful in a way Leorio had never seen him, and sent him a tiny smirk.

Leorio refused to let him have the upper hand like that. “Anytime you like, sunshine.”

The _sunshine_ part came out without his permission, but Kurapika seemed more focused on the _anytime you like_ bit. He went red again, up his neck and over his cheeks, and for a moment Leorio swore that his eyes flashed as red as the rest of his face - but before Leorio could comment, the blaring klaxon of a kaiju attack cut through the air. He watched as Kurapika, Killua, and Gon’s hands went to their pockets to pull out their phones.

“Category four,” Gon read off excitedly. “About twenty miles from here - they’re calling for us, and Kurapika, and Dogged Reaper!”

“Dogged Reaper’s in town?” Kurapika asked, already sitting up and putting his shoes back on to run to his jaeger - _his_ , not his and Leorio’s, because Leorio was useless and still training and they were weeks away from being ready to go into the field together.

Leorio was used to being left behind on these missions, but this was the first time it had stung like this.

“‘Parrently,” Killua said. He pecked Alluka on the cheek. “Be back soon!”

He ran off with Gon, the two boys’ shouts echoing in the hallway as they decided to race to Hellion Whale’s dock. Kurapika sent Leorio a look.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“I know you will,” Leorio said. He waited for another few moments, watching Kurapika set off, his footsteps lithe and his blond hair fluttering from his momentum -

“Hey!” Leorio yelled after him before he could stop himself. Kurapika spun around, his robes flowing with his movement. “Be careful.”

Kurapika blinked. This time, Leorio _knew_ he wasn’t imagining it when, just for a moment, Kurapika’s irises flashed from gray to red and back to gray again right in front of him. But all Kurapika did was nod, promising, “I will.”

~

“Granted,” Kurapika said to a very pissed-off looking Leorio, who was standing above his cot with his arms folded over his chest. “I _was_ careful.”

A muscle twitched in Leorio’s jaw. His hands flexed, once, on his arms, long fingers digging into surprisingly toned biceps. Maybe it was the head injury talking, but Kurapika really liked everything that he was looking at right now. Now, if only his head would stop trying to crack itself open from the inside.

But all Leorio said was, “clearly,” as he released a long sigh. He pulled up his rolling seat and sat across from Kurapika.

“You’re all gonna give me a heart attack one of these days,” Leorio said as he gloved up and wheeled his rolling shelf towards them.

Gon laughed from his own spot on a cot. “You’re such a worrier, Leorio! This is part of being a Hunter.”

“So is caution,” Cheadle said as she set Gon’s broken arm. “Strategy. Thinking ahead. Consideration.”

Gon frowned, his eyes cartoonishly wide. “I _knoooow._ I’m sorry.”

Kurapika met Leorio’s gaze. The medic rolled his eyes, and Kurapika made to follow suit, except when he tried to make the motion his head felt like someone had cleaved into it with an ice pick and his stomach rolled.

“Whoa, you alright?” Leorio asked, resting a hand on Kurapika’s shoulder. His palms were broad, his skin warm. His eyes were warm and wide and so concerned and yes, Kurapika definitely had a head injury.

“I hit my head,” Kurapika mumbled.

“Yeah, no shit,” Leorio said without heat. “Judging by your light sensitivity and the dark rimming around your eyes, you’ve got a concussion.”

“Again, your bedside manner is without parallel,” Kurapika said.

“It really is,” Leorio agreed. “I deserve a raise just for putting up with you. Alright, I’m going to check your head.”

Kurapika tried not to inhale sharply when he felt Leorio’s fingers combing through his hair, gently prodding for bumps or contusions over his scalp. He brushed against the lump left from when Bloody Chains was flung off of the kaiju’s back and into a building, and Kurapika hissed in pain. Leorio made a similar, commiserating sound.

“Yeah, that’s about the size of an egg. That explains a lot.” To Kurapika’s disappointment, Leorio pulled away. To his even greater disappointment, Leorio now pulled out a pencil flashlight. “Now I’m going to check your eyes.”

“You need to shine a light in my eyes to see if my eyes are sensitive?”

“Yes.”

“This is why I have trust issues,” Kurapika mumbled, and he was deeply gratified when Leorio chortled. Moments like these, he still couldn’t believe that it had been mere weeks since he and Leorio learned they were drift compatible. In that time, Leorio had gone from bane of his existence to slightly (significantly) less bane of his existence and his friend. His closest friend, his only friend. Kurapika hadn’t realized how long the days once felt until they started to fly by.

Kurapika winced as Leorio shone his little flashlight into his eyes. The feeling made the pain in his temples sharpen, and he screwed his eyes shut and turned away.

“Yeah, I know,” Leorio said sympathetically. “Your pupils are equal and reactive, though, which is a good sign. Means it’s not as bad as it could be. Now I’m going to suture this laceration on your face.”

“There’s a laceration on my face?” Kurapika asked. He’d been so focused on his headache he hadn’t noticed anything else. Leorio, of course, took that chance to look even more concerned, which made Kurapika’s stomach lurch in guilt.

“Yeah,” Leorio said. He took a piece of gauze and dabbed it at Kurapika’s left brow. It came away drenched in red and clotted with blood and gunk. Pain lanced over the area and Kurapika winced again. Leorio started to dab a cotton ball with antiseptic and padded it gently over Kurapika’s brow. He swallowed as inconspicuously as he could, praying his face was pale and gaunt and his eyes wouldn’t flash. He knew how often Leorio had attended his wounds, and yet something about _this_ felt intimate like nothing else had before. Maybe it was the fact that they no longer hated each other.

Then Kurapika remembered their first day in the drift, seeing himself from Leorio’s perspective, and he almost flinched in embarrassment at the recollection. He dropped his gaze, or he would have, except with Leorio this close the only thing he could see if he looked away was _more Leorio_ \- his gaze dropped to his jaw, the line of his throat, the curve of his collarbones, the v of his neckline.

Kurapika’s lashes fluttered shut, and he prayed for death to just take him then.

“You feeling alright?” Leorio’s voice was close and soft. Kurapika nodded.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Okay,” Leorio said, his tone laced with heavy skepticism. “I’m going to inject a numbing agent, and once that’s kicked in I’ll stitch this shut.”

“Sure,” Kurapika said, his lips as numb as his brow. He kept his eyes closed while Leorio worked, under the guise of wanting to keep still as the medic worked. Leorio’s hand was warm on Kurapika’s shoulder, keeping him steady, and when Kurapika breathed in he could smell the lingering cologne on his skin. It reminded Kurapika of an afternoon at the beach, something warm and fresh like a sea breeze.

All too soon, Leorio was done with his sutures and pulling back. Warm fingers pressed the gauze and then medical tape to his skin, and Kurapika opened his eyes.

Leorio was studying him intently, his brilliant mind likely going a mile a minute. Before Kurapika could say anything, he said, “The bandage is good, but your pupils are starting to look a bit uneven. I really don’t feel comfortable letting you leave tonight.”

Kurapika frowned. “That’s not so different from my other medbay visits.”

“True,” Leorio conceded. “You’ll probably need to be awoken every hour or so, though, and with Shoot’s injury…” he glanced over his shoulder, where Cheadle was in the process of checking the skinny man’s blood pressure.

Cheadle sighed. “He could use the rest. I wouldn’t recommend the stress of waking on and off all night for his heart.”

“Hmm,” Leorio hummed thoughtfully. He glanced at Kurapika. “Would you mind if I stayed with you tonight?”

Kurapika blinked. “But I only have one bed.”

Leorio, to his eternal credit, did not call Kurapika a horny fucking moron. “Not to sleep in,” he said hastily. “I’ll grab a sleeping bag or something. I’ll be up every hour or so anyway. No point in getting comfortable.”

“Oh,” Kurapika said. “I guess. It sounds like the only option.”

“Yeah,” Leorio said apologetically. “If you’re okay with it. If not -”

“I’m okay with it,” Kurapika interrupted. Leorio stopped, blinking.

“You are?”

Kurapika shrugged. “Sure. It’s this or have a brain bleed in the middle of the night. So…”

He shrugged awkwardly. Leorio rubbed the back of his neck, his tanned skin flushing a shade darker. “Sure. Fine. Let me get my things.”

Kurapika nodded and wished he hadn’t, because the motion left him feeling even dizzier and nauseous. He listed faintly to the side, but before he could do something really embarrassing like vomit or fall to the floor and hurt his head again, Leorio caught his shoulder.

“Kurapika?” He said. “You okay?”

“M’fine,” Kurapika mumbled. “Let’s go, I just want to sleep.”

It was going to be a long night.

A long night that certainly wasn’t made any shorter with the way Leorio was somehow comically out of place and yet looked like he belonged in Kurapika’s room. A room that, Kurapika remembered belatedly, was furnished in the style of his former Kurta home, complete with his bed replaced by thick bedding on the floor. He and Leorio would, for all intents and purposes, be sleeping side-by-side that night.

But Kurapika was too tired and in too much pain to be embarrassed. “Can I shower?”

“Should be fine,” Leorio said. He shrugged. “I’ll come looking for you if you’re not back in ten minutes just to make sure you didn’t faint and drown.”

“I plan to die with a touch more dignity,” Kurapika muttered darkly as he grabbed his things and went to the communal showers. He was the only one in there this time of night, which he was grateful for. The rush of water in just his stall grated on his ears, and he was sure that any more sound would actually have made him sick. But he made it back to his room in the allotted time before Leorio went looking for him. Leorio had made himself at home, unfurling his sleeping bag beside Kurapika’s bedding and sitting cross-legged on it in his sleep pants and a t-shirt.

It looked...normal. Domestic. Comfortable. If Kurapika were the daydreaming sort, this might be just the sort of scenario he would have thought up and filed under _unrealistic domestic fantasy._

Kurapika settled down into his bedding and prayed that none of these thoughts stuck around long enough to be saved in his brain. The last thing he needed was Leorio knowing that not only did he have a _thing_ for him, but he saw Leorio in his sleep clothes in his room and wished he might never leave.

Kurapika settled down into his covers and pulled the heavy, downy comforter to his chin. “How long do I get to sleep this round?”

“‘Bout an hour and a half,” Leorio said groggily. He settled into his sleeping bag, looking like a yellow-and-blue caterpillar. He looked younger without his glasses, somehow, his dark eyes so much clearer and closer without the round frames in front of them. He set an alarm on his phone and lay his head into his pillow. His hair was a forest of thick, dark spikes spread over the frayed white pillowcase. “Get some sleep, K’pika.”

Kurapika bit back a smile. He liked the way his name sounded when Leorio said it like that.

Sleep came to him quickly, but unfortunately, so did the first round of check-ups. As did the second. The third. Around the fourth, Kurapika was too tired and annoyed to do much more than lash out a sleep-groggy hand and slap it vaguely against Leorio. He gave a grunt of irritation and surprise.

“Really, asshole?” Leorio asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“Does that show I’m alive?” Kurapika mumbled.

“Well, speaking in a coherent sentence did more than you just lashing out,” Leorio said. He nudged Kurapika’s shoulder. “C’mon, up, up.”

“If you shine that pen light in my eyes again,” Kurapika said calmly, “I am going to shove it up your nose so far it shines out of your ears.”

“Great threat,” Leorio said. He was still poking his shoulder. “Really. Points for creativity. But I still need to check your eyes, so get up so we can both go back to sleep.”

Grumbling incoherently, Kurapika sat up. He followed Leorio’s instructions by rote and collapsed onto his back a few minutes later.

“You’re a good medic,” Kurapika said, his voice close to a whine. Perhaps Killua and Gon were rubbing off on him.

“What’s that?” Leorio asked. Kurapika had a forearm flung over his forehead, so he felt rather than saw Leorio flop back down only a few feet away from him. “Was that a _compliment?”_

Kurapika felt himself smile. “No.”

“Uh-uh,” Leorio said. The room was dark again, but Kurapika could tell he was grinning, too. “I heard it. You said I was a good medic. No take-backs.”

“It’s the head injury.”

Leorio snorted. “That’s cheap.”

“You would know.”

“Oh, he’s got _jokes_ now,” Leorio said. Kurapika could hear Leorio turning towards him in the darkness. “Maybe this will stick around after the concussion fades. I hope so.”

“I’ve always had jokes,” Kurapika said. “You just have a piss-poor sense of humor.”

The mid-level curse slipped out without his permission, and Kurapika would have winced if he was awake enough for it. First Killua and Gon’s whining, now Leorio’s crassness. His new friends were all kinds of terrible influences.

“Hmm,” Leorio hummed sleepily. He was quiet for a long minute, so Kurapika assumed he had dozed off again. But then Leorio spoke. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Slept?” Kurapika asked. “I keep telling you you drink too much coffee.”

“You have no legs to stand on lecturing me on my health habits,” Leorio interrupted. “Remember when you tried to mix an energy drink with coffee?”

“Can’t say I do.”

“You’re cute,” Leorio snorted. “No, I meant this. Have a sleepover with a friend.”

Oh. Kurapika blinked at his words. Even as he felt himself flushing, he was surprisingly touched. The statement made him look back, too, wondering - when was the last time _he_ had done something like this? Lay side-by-side with a friend, joking and bantering? Feeling so safe and comfortable, even if his head still throbbed in the worst headache he’d ever had?

Kurapika was quiet for too long, it seemed, because he heard Leorio cough awkwardly in the dark. “Uh. Sorry. That was weird. Just a bit tired and sentimental.”

“It’s fine,” Kurapika said quickly. “Or, I mean, that is - it’s not weird. I haven’t done this in years, either.” Though he supposed sleepovers took on a different tenor when one hit their mid-twenties. “I haven’t had a sleepover since I was a child, before…” Kurapika swallowed.

Leorio turned toward him. “Yeah.”

Kurapika tilted his head in Leorio’s direction. In the faint light from the hallway shining under the door, he could see Leorio laying on his stomach, his head turned in Kurapika’s direction. Kurapika couldn’t make out any of his features in the gloom. He asked, “What was his name?”

Leorio stiffened. “Whose?”

He was a terrible liar. Kurapika said, “The friend in your memories. From the drift.”

Leorio chuckled softly. “Are we at that point in the sleepover?”

“At this rate, we’ll need to be up in forty minutes,” Kurapika said. “We might as well stay awake. Though, of course, you don't have to answer if you don't want to.”

Leorio hummed. “Fair enough.” He was quiet for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts. Kurapika waited patiently, not pushing for answers. “His name was Pietro. I was dirt-poor growing up, so we just had each other and our families. He was my best friend. The first person I… well,” Leorio coughed. Kurapika tried to ignore the zinging feeling of electricity in his stomach at the vocal confirmation of _oh holy shit he likes men,_ because that was so far from the point of this exercise. “We came up with all kinds of plans to get rich quick and get out of there. They were all so stupid, kinda like episodes of that old cartoon _Ed, Ed, n’ Eddy._ You ever see that?”

Kurapika chuckled. “Unfortunately not.”

“Well, I’ll see if I can find it online,” Leorio said. “It’ll explain why I am the way I am.”

“Well, thank goodness for that,” Kurapika said. Leorio laughed again, and Kurapika wondered if he imagined the phantom breath that brushed his arm.

“In any case,” Leorio went on, “Eventually, we did decide that the way to get out of there was to become hunter pilots. We knew that we were drift compatible. We didn’t need the drift sim to confirm that. You ever feel like that?”

Kurapika shook his head in the darkness. The motion hurt, and Leorio couldn’t see it anyway, so he said, “No.”

Kurapika already knew the ending to this story, but Leorio told him anyway. “But, like I said, we were poor. So when Pietro got sick, there wasn’t much we could do for him aside from keep him comfortable and happy.” Leorio was quiet for a few long moments. “He first got sick in August. He was gone by the end of the year. I left home pretty soon after to become a doctor. Ironic that I joined the Hunters anyway. Never thought I would, after Pietro was gone. But I wanted to help people, even if I never wanted to drift.”

Leorio left the unspoken _until you_ dangle between them. Kurapika was quiet for several long minutes. Blindly, he reached out, his fingertips finding the warm back of Leorio’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

A pause. Leorio did not turn his hand to hold his, but he did twist it in such a way that their pinkies caught together. “Thanks. It was a long time ago.”

Kurapika did not ask how long. He did not need to know, nor did it matter. Well, it _mattered,_ but it was just - Kurapika knew that loss was the kind of pain that did not contextualize. It could ebb and flow like the tide, sometimes muted and other times overpowering, but it never went away entirely. Kurapika knew the tang of that loss all too well, knew how it sat bitter on the back of one’s tongue.

“What about you?” Leorio asked.

“You know the story,” Kurapika said softly. “You saw it in the drift.”

“That was the drift,” Leorio answered. “Not your own words.”

Kurapika swallowed the emotion that welled up his throat. He wondered of his own situation, all the ways it was similar to Leorio’s tale. Softly, he started speaking, telling Leorio of the old Kurta clan’s beachside village. The lapping of morning waves, the cry of gulls, the everyday war with the birds trying to steal their fish. Kurapika ducking and dodging between legs and stalls, hand-in-hand with his best friend Pairo. Pairo getting sick, Kurapika - lithe, athletic Kurapika, scared for his best friend - agreeing to run inland and find him a doctor. The kaiju struck mere hours after Kurapika left. He heard the roaring and crashing, sprinted through a storm to return to his village, but it was gone by the time Kurapika arrived. He was injured and soaked from running and the ground shaking beneath him, but he had been high enough above sea level that he had escaped the rest of the Kurta clan’s fate.

It was the first time in years Kurapika actually described the events of his clan’s passing aloud. There were several times his voice faltered, cracking on the emotions rising to the surface, but the warmth of Leorio’s hand over his soothed him. It helped him go on.

(It hurt, but not as much as it had in the past, and Kurapika was too tired and in too much pain to dwell on it. Perhaps he was simply tired. Perhaps he was healing, moving on. The thought was agony and fear and relief all at once, because for so long he wondered who he was without this bone-deep rage to drive him on. Because the idea of life beyond being a Hunter and killing Spider was a vast unknown that Kurapika could not begin to fathom.)

Leorio’s hand squeezing his pulled Kurapika from his thoughts. “That’s horrible,” he said. “I’m so sorry that happened.”

“I’m sorry to you, too,” Kurapika breathed sleepily. Leorio ran his fingers over his knuckles, and it took more willpower than Kurapika was proud of to stop himself from doing something embarrassing like sigh like a schoolgirl.

“Kurapika?” Leorio murmured. “Still with me?”

“No.”

“Funny,” Leorio snarked. “I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s up with your eyes?”

Kurapika blinked. “Um.” Heat was flooding his cheeks. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Don’t give me that,” Leorio said. “The red-flashing thing. At first I thought I was losing my mind - don’t be a smart-ass, I know you’re trying to come up with something clever and it’s just going to hurt your head more in the long run - but you did it again when you left today. What’s up with that?”

“It’s - ahem,” Kurapika said, clearing his throat. Leorio was a scientist. He wouldn’t read too far into this, right? “Members of the Kurta clan possessed - possesses, I suppose, though I am the only one left - an interesting genetic anomaly. That is, our irises change color when we experience high emotions.”

“Hence the red flashes,” Leorio said. “That’s quite fascinating.”

“Thank you,” Kurapika said.

“What kind of high emotions?” Leorio asked, because _dammit he was such a scientist, what a nerd, fucking fuck why did Kurapika have to like such a dork?_ “‘Negative’ emotions, like rage or sadness or fear, or ‘positive’ emotions as well, like joy or…?”

“Any high emotions,” Kurapika said before Leorio could go on. They both fell quiet, and Kurapika did not need the drift simulator to know they were both thinking of the times his eyes had flashed over the short course of their partnership.

Earlier that day, when Leorio told Kurapika to be safe on this mission, and he was so touched by Leorio’s concern he would have needed to run off, anyway. When Leorio implied he was down to make out with Kurapika whenever, and he was embarrassed and interested in equal measure. When he and Leorio got into their fight in the med bay, and it took all of his willpower not to put a fucking dent in the medic’s stupid face. When Kurapika won their fight in the sparring room, sitting on Leorio’s stomach and pressing his bo staff to his throat, and the only thing on Kurapika’s mind once he stopped to breathe was what sound Leorio might make if he ran his tongue over the slope of his neck.

“Neat,” Leorio said, and Kurapika smiled.

“Thank you. I have absolutely no control over it.”

“When did you become such a snarky asshole?” Leorio asked sleepily. “You’re hanging out with Killua too much.”

“Probably,” Kurapika mused. “I hadn’t spent much time with other people on the base before. This has been...nice.”

Leorio was quiet for a long time. Kurapika didn’t say anything, nor did he move, not wanting to interrupt Leorio’s sleep. But after a while, Leorio said, “It has been, huh? I’m glad you’re spending more time with us. Kinda feels like the missing piece to all this.”

There was no light in the room, but Kurapika knew that if he could see right now, the world would have gone a blush pink from his irises changing. Leorio cleared his throat. “And, you know. Nice to not just feel like an old man around the kiddos.”

“You’re _not_ an old man?” Kurapika laughed when Leorio spluttered in incoherent, exhausted rage.

“Fuck _off.”_

~

When their time finally came - Leorio finally caught up in his hunter training, Kurapika’s concussion healed - it was five o’clock in the morning.

Leorio was in bed, because Kurapika had found him at half-past midnight and physically shunted him off to bed. When the klaxon screamed loud enough to rattle the metal floors and reverberate the walls like a pounding bass, Leorio almost burrowed his head under his pillows to wait until the hunters left.

Except his phone buzzed, and Leorio’s eyes were wide enough to double as saucers as he flipped over the screen and read the alert:

_**CAT 4 - CLAWPIERCER.** _

_**25KM EAST-NORTHEAST YORKNEW BASE. ~~~~**_

**~~  
~~ **

_**POINT: DISSONANT STRIKER** _

****

_**BACKUP: HELLION WHALE** _

****

_It’s happening,_ Leorio thought. He was up and running to the jaeger dock before he had consciously moved. _It’s happening, it’s happening, here we go -_

****

He caught the threshold of a door and used it to swing around the corner without losing momentum. As he rushed past a hall, he met Kurapika.

****

“You got the message?” Kurapika confirmed.

****

“Message?” Leorio had to yell over the alarms. “I’m just on a morning jog.”

****

Kurapika muttered something low and flowing that Leorio was ninety percent sure was his native language and one hundred percent positive was rude. But Kurapika only went on, “We’ve read up on Clawpiercer following its last attack on East Gorteau. Fifteen stories tall, skin like leather, twenty-foot claws like titanium steel -”

****

“I read the damn report, K’pika,” Leorio huffed, more irritated that Kurapika could rattle off facts like an encyclopedia while sprinting.

****

Kurapika, because he was Kurapika, seemed to gather that Leorio’s snap was from being rudely awakened at balls-a.m. and nerves rather than irritation. He was quiet, waiting until they stopped outside the docks to change.

****

“Leorio,” Kurapika said. He looked up at Leorio with calm, patient eyes that Leorio knew hid the frenetic desire to fight. “We can do this. _You_ can do this.”

****

Leorio took a long, deep breath, soothing his heartbeat. “Yeah. Thanks. I’ll see you on the other side.”

****

It was the work of mere minutes for Leorio to pull on his suit, black metal and a million little sensors aligning with his nerve endings. It helped that some of the techs were there to make sure dumbest smart person around Leorio didn’t fuck up on his first official drift. His helmet tucked under his arm, he strode out into the launchpad where he and Kurapika would be locked in before their descent into Dissonant Striker.

****

Kurapika was already suited up and waiting. He caught Leorio’s eye and sent him a grin, wide and wolfish and predatory. It made something lurch in Leorio’s stomach. He grinned back, just as eager.

****

Leorio shoved on his helmet, the soft clicking sound reverberating and echoing in his ears like the loudest thing in the world.

****

No - the loudest thing in the world was Kurapika’s voice in his ear, murmuring, _“Are you ready?”_

****

Leorio had to suppress a shiver. “You know it, sunshine.”

****

A beat. _“How many times -”_

****

_“Hunters, your scans are coming up loud and clear.”_ Melody’s voice cut over their comms, soft and sweet and sounding like she was perpetually awake. _“Welcome to partner drifting, Dissonant Striker.”_

****

_“That’s such a cool name!”_ Gon’s voice chimed in over the airwaves. _“Who came up with it? Was it a group effort? The naming part was my favorite with Killua -”_

****

_“Melody made it. Focus, boys,”_ Bisky said. _“Commencing drop in three, two, one.”_

****

Leorio’s stomach soared up to someplace behind his tongue as his pod dropped some hundred feet or so. The floor shuddered beneath his feet as it clicked into place into the neck place of Dissonant Striker.

****

_“Initiating neural handshake,”_ Melody warned them. _“In three, two, one.”_

****

Leorio took a deep breath. Then -

****

_He sits at the head of the table, and the room is packed to the brim with all of their neighbors. The table in front of him is piled with food - rice and beans, pickled vegetables, empanadas stuffed with more rice and beans, stacks and stacks of tamales. They only have this much food because this is a neighborhood potluck celebration for his birthday, and mama is bringing out ice cream that Leorio knows they can’t afford but he grins so big and bright, and the room is warm and full and the sun is shining through the windows and the room is bathed in orange -_

****

_The air changes, now, a breeze that belongs nowhere in Leorio’s memories sweeping in, and Leorio’s old home dissipates in a cloud of smoke. Now the air is fragrant with the scent of flowers and rain and the sea, always the sea, and Kurapika is fidgeting in his new ceremonial robes, because today is the celebration of the coming spring and he is supposed to dance and he emphatically Does Not Want To, and across the connection Leorio can feel Kurapika rolling his eyes and ushering them through the memory, refusing to allow his drift partner to watch his disastrous performance -_

****

_Leorio is glancing around the room, double-checking the kids won’t hear him speculate about the impending end of the world, and he rests his chin on the table and he focuses on the task at hand but it’s hard, some moments, because Kurapika is right there, blond fringe over his forehead and dusky gray eyes and nose and cheeks spackled with faint pink freckles and he smells like mint and palm, and Leorio feels Kurapika’s flustered embarrassment through the drift, because where Leorio was distracted from being useful and clever, Kurapika was struck speechless and useless by a head injury and Leorio’s hand resting heavy and warm on his shoulder, brown eyes focused on his sutures, and Leorio realizes what Kurapika is trying to tell him, that as much as he gives Leorio grief, he does think he is an excellent healer, kind and warm and comforting in the rough way of a well-worn set of workboots._

****

The memories steadied out, and Leorio exhaled. He opened his eyes and peered through the viewport, eyeing the readout on the scanners and studying the world beyond. The ground spread out below him like he was standing at the window atop a twenty-story building.

****

_“Neural handshake holding steady,”_ Melody hummed through the microphone. _“Are you ready?”_

****

Leorio glanced aside and met Kurapika’s gaze. That wolfish grin was back. “We are.”

****

Dissonant Striker took its first step. Its second. And Leorio was piloting a _fucking jaeger._

****

They took some twenty minutes to make it to their destination. The sensation was incredible - Leorio moved his leg, and Striker’s leg moved with him. He swung his arm to keep steady, and the arm of their thirty-ton metal robot copied like it was an extension of his body.

****

Fighting Clawpiercer was just as smooth. Difficult as hell, of course - no kaiju ever went down easy. Claws the size of train cars scrabbled over Dissonant Striker’s front, and Leorio felt phantom stings streak down his torso in time. But Leorio held them steady and Kurapika swung for the fences, and with an almighty crunch, the kaiju’s head twisted sharply. Leorio followed it up with another strike, knocking the kaiju back further and sending teeth the size of refrigerators clattering to the ground. In the headsets, Hellion Whale was ushering Clawpiercer away from refugee slums and keeping more buildings from collapsing.

****

“Powering up Remote Punch,” Leorio said. He rolled his shoulder once, twice, green light starting to build up in Dissonant Striker’s mighty fist as he wound up. “Got him still?”

****

“Of course,” Kurapika said smoothly, as if they were at the store and making sure they bought coffee and not on a battlefield. He used their left arm to wrap Clawpiercer into a vicious headlock. Leorio could hear bones crunching and teeth scraping over even the hum of energy in the jaeger, the pounding of his own heart, the thrumming of adrenaline in Kurapika’s blood. Leorio swung down, his fist connecting hard and perfectly on the kaiju’s enormous ugly snout.

****

With an echoing screech and an honestly disgusting explosion of blue kaiju guts and brain, Clawpiercer collapsed into the water. In the distance, the sun was starting to rise on the distant horizon.

****

For the longest time, there was only the static buzz of the post-battle high in Leorio’s mind. Then, finally, he heard Melody’s voice:

****

_“We’re not getting any life signs from Clawpiercer. Congratulations on your first kill, Dissonant Striker. Come on back.”_

****

Up on the wreckage of an old interstate, Gon and Killua screeched their joy through the headsets and sent Hellion Whale into a dab. Leorio grinned and punched the air, a laugh escaping his lips.

****

“Hear that, K’pika?” Leorio yelled. His chest was expanding with something warm and vast and unbearably proud and _unspeakably_ fond, and he turned to Kurapika, and Kurapika was already looking at him and grinning like his face couldn’t contain it. The rising sun shone through the viewport and illuminated the blond bangs that pressed against his forehead in the helmet, caught on the brightness of his smile, made the red glow in his eyes shine like brilliant gems.

****

And Leorio realized - this affection in his chest was not just his. This sense that his heart and lungs were too big to fit in his body was not coming from him. Leorio knew the moment Kurapika figured that out, too, their drift briefly shaking like Kurapika wanted to pull away, funnel the connection. And Leorio felt when he decided to keep it open anyway.

****

Leorio stood like an idiot in their jaeger, grinning like a mooning dolt, watching the way his hunter partner’s eyes glittered in the sunrise and feeling this affection resonating and amplifying in their chests.

****

****

~

****

**  
**

****

Piloting Dissonant Striker was unlike anything Kurapika had dreamed.

****

For one, he spent a lot less time injured. Dissonant Striker was about three times the size of Bloody Chains, so a lot of Kurapika’s “tiny dog tendencies” (to quote Bisky) were quelled by using the larger jaeger. For another, Leorio was the level-headed strategist to Kurapika’s bloodlust, so they kicked a lot of ass without ending up in the medical bay.

****

It wasn’t long before Kurapika and Leorio were looked at as something akin to celebrities on base. The time had long passed when Hunters were actually given commercial deals and invited on talk shows, but the nods of respect and appreciation were a pleasant new normal. The people who had once eyed Kurapika as _too driven, too angry, too risk-prone now commended his bold strategies._

****

Leorio had snorted loudly at one of those praises. “The only reason you weren’t doing all this before was because Bloody Chains couldn’t reach that high.”

****

Kurapika glared at Leorio from his position stretching on the mats. “Shut up.”

****

“Wassat?” Leorio asked, stretching his arms overhead. “I can’t hear you down there? You gotta speak up.”

****

With a face affecting utmost dignity, Kurapika lifted himself onto his elbows and swung his leg, cleanly taking Leorio’s feet from beneath him and sending him flat onto his ass in an undignified tangle of too-long limbs.

****

“What the fuck, Kurapika?” Leorio demanded, scowling.

****

“I couldn’t hear you up there,” Kurapika said innocently. He stood up to grab his bo staff, testing its weight as he spun it around his frame. “I thought I’d bring you to my level.”

****

“Asshole,” Leorio said darkly from his spot on the floor. Kurapika saw Leorio’s gaze run over him, top to bottom, and Kurapika tried not to flush at the memories from the drift simulator, of what Leorio saw when he simply prepared for one of their matchups.

****

_Power. Poise. Grace. Control._ He looked at Kurapika and saw someone attractive, someone _desirable._ It still staggered him, some days, to remember that Leorio felt this connection, this same _thing,_ that he did. Even if he hadn’t ever tried to talk about it. Which initially struck Kurapika as odd - in just about every other situation, Leorio was only blunt, brusque, and straightforward, even where Kurapika would have preferred diplomacy. But in this he was silent, sitting back and letting Kurapika know where he stood without demanding that Kurapika show his hand.

****

Leorio was letting him take the lead, Kurapika realized, giving him room to set the pace. It was kind, considerate, compassionate. It made something worryingly fond fill up his chest, expanding and crushing his lungs until he thought he might drown in it. With every passing day, Kurapika was harder-pressed to remember why he resisted its pull.

****

“Hop to it, gentleman,” Bisky called from her position on the sidelines, where she was supervising combat training. “You’re here to demonstrate your drift compatibility via hand-to-hand combat, not to flirt.”

****

“Why not both, Bisky?” Leorio asked cheerfully as he sprung back to his feet, ignoring Kurapika’s squawked protests. “I think we can agree that our witty banter was part one in helping us work out we were drift compatible.”

****

“I seem to have forgotten anything _you’ve_ said that was witty,” Kurapika said, twirling his staff around his fingers and catching it so it was parallel to the floor. He smirked at Leorio’s mock-irritated scowl.

****

“Memory loss is a common side effect from head injuries,” Leorio reminded him. He held his staff in front of him in two hands like it was a sword. The motion distracted Kurapika from his shit-talking by bringing out the definition of the muscles in his arms and chest. This man was going to be the death of him.

****

“Fight or kiss!” Killua chanted from the sidelines, his hands cupped over his mouth. The little asshole didn’t even need to be here. “Just get to it!”

****

Kurapika rolled his eyes and took a step forward. This was just a warm-up match, and they weren’t supposed to be fighting for real in any case, so Kurapika went slowly. Their staffs hit hard, the plastic echoing off the walls and rattling his wrists. He appreciated that even for warm-ups and mock fights, Leorio never pulled his punches (well, he did - they weren’t trying to actually hurt each other, much as Kurapika still wanted to pull his hair out at Leorio’s antics some days) or went easy on him. Leorio saw their difference in bulk and muscle and height and still went at him with about eighty percent strength, because he certainly liked Kurapika but moreover he _respected him,_ and then Leorio caught him in the chin with a lucky swing because Kurapika was too busy mooning over him to fight.

****

A chorus of _ooh’s_ went around the room, and Kurapika dabbed the end of his sleeve over his chin. A few drops of blood came away staining the white linen sleeve. Kurapika grinned up into Leorio’s guilty face and allowed his own grin to go wide and wolfish.

****

“That’s one for you,” he said, and then he stepped forward, bypassing Leorio’s defenses in a flash of white clothes and blond hair. He caught Leorio’s leg just above the knee and toppled him onto his back where he landed with a hard oof. Kurapika stood above him, his staff an inch away from Leorio’s neck. “And one for me.”

****

Leorio grinned up at him. “You smug asshole.”

****

He swept a leg out, but Kurapika was ready for it, jumping above it like this was a game of hopscotch. Leorio took advantage of that movement to leap into a crouch, his staff over his head to protect himself as Kurapika swung down. Then they were off again, shuffling and swinging and calling names at each other like they were kids in a schoolyard.

****

Kurapika’s muscles burned from the exertion, and his hair and back was dripping with sweat, but the most prescient thing he noticed was that his cheeks ached from smiling so hard.

****

It was fun. He had forgotten how to have it in the past ten years. And now his life was swept up in jaeger battles and research and training and his hunter partner, who made him smile and laugh from his stomach for the first time in years.

****

Leorio and Kurapika swung at each other as one in a finishing move so perfect the outside viewer would have assumed they planned it, except of course they did no such thing - Kurapika with his feet planted, Leorio in a half-crouch, their eyes locked and bo staffs hovering a mere inch away from the other’s neck. Gray on brown - Kurapika had never given much thought to his preferences before, but now, if asked his favorite color, he might just confess that he was partial to the brown of soft earth, of hot chocolate or coffee or dark tea.

****

The room erupted into applause and cheers, which made Kurapika lower his staff and step back. Leorio grinned at him and pulled away as well. They both turned their attention to Bisky, who was now discussing their drift compatibility in clinical terms that somehow did not mesh with the hot, messy tangle of emotions in his chest. Kurapika walked off the mats to lean against the cool metal wall, sipping water and watching the pilot recruits start their own training. Kurapika was handing Leorio his water bottle before he’d even consciously chosen to move, before he’d even noticed Leorio moving to reach for it anyway.

****

Great. They were already in the _predicting your partner’s moves_ stage of drift partnership. Kurapika glanced around the room and felt himself stiffen when he caught Hisoka’s eye from where the man was leaning against the doorway. He sent Kurapika a wide smile and jerked his head out into the hallway in the universal sign _of come here, let’s play._

****

Kurapika fought off the twin desire to shudder or to throw his water bottle at him. But before he could decide, Leorio said, “D’you want back up?”

****

Kurapika shook his head. “Nice as that may be, that may actually prolong things. I’ll handle him. You keep an eye on the trainees in case someone breaks a finger?”

****

Leorio rolled his eyes to the sky. “Fair enough. See that group across the way jumping all over? I’m anticipating at least a rolled ankle before the hour is up.”

****

“Should doctors be betting on whether people will be hurt?” Kurapika asked, just to watch Leorio bite back a laugh.

****

“Not a doctor yet,” he said. He gently nudged Kurapika’s shoulder. “Go on. If you’re not in the usual spot in an hour, I’ll come looking to make sure Hisoka hasn’t turned you into his next experiment.”

****

Kurapika bit back a smile and allowed himself to be pushed in the direction of the door. Hisoka continued waiting patiently, his smile widening into a leering grin as Kurapika joined him at the door.

****

“Do you need something?” Kurapika asked.

****

“Need? Not quite,” Hisoka said. “I ask only a few minutes of your time. Accompany me to my laboratory?”

****

Kurapika did not like the way Hisoka spoke the whole word, his tongue tracing the syllables as one might for a boudoir or to a lover. But as weird and generally unpleasant as Hisoka was, he _did_ tend to have useful things to say beneath six miles of bullshit. Kurapika just did not look forward to spending the next hour wading through his nonsense to find the main message.

****

Case in point: they made it perhaps ten steps down the hallway when Hisoka started in: “You really are smitten, hm?”

****

Kurapika clenched his hands into fists. “If this is about my hunter partner, I will walk away right now.”

****

“It’s not,” Hisoka said, brushing off Kurapika’s irritation like one would for a wayward fly. “Well, at least not directly.”

****

“Then why bring it up?” Kurapika snapped.

****

“What else is there to do around here?” Hisoka asked, arching one penciled brow.

****

“Your job? Research? Run the numbers? Train? Attend meetings?” Kurapika listed off on his fingers, only to be interrupted by a loud pop of bubblegum.

****

“I _already_ do all that,” Hisoka whined plaintively. “And my babies are not boring at all, but I need some _human_ intrigue, do you catch my drift? Ha! Drift!” Hisoka chortled at his own joke. “Because we’re talking about your drift partner!”

****

“We are _not,”_ Kurapika insisted like this was going to stop Hisoka once he got himself on a roll. Fortunately they were now walking into Hisoka’s lab, so their resident batshit scientist was soon distracted by trailing his acrylic nails over hundred-gallon tanks full of neon-colored liquids. His nails scraping over the glass sounded similar to nails on a chalkboard, and Kurapika felt his shoulders tense at the sound.

****

“I always wanted to drift,” Hisoka confessed to Kurapika, which was just so far beyond whatever the hell he wanted to deal with right now. Especially considering Hisoka admitted this while staring at a tank full of a slice of kaiju brain with an expression of rapt fascination. “But when I learned we were treating kaiju as enemies rather than fascinating opportunities to learn, to expand our consciousness and our abilities...I gave that all up.”

****

“...Sure,” Kurapika said, picturing whatever honest and hilarious thing Leorio would say if he were here, too. Something to Kurapika about him being right about Hisoka wanting to screw a kaiju, and now he was edging closer to the door lest he need to make a break for it. “Why am I here, again?”

****

“Oh! I forgot.” Hisoka said, as if this weren’t obvious. He pulled away from the tank and focused his attention on Kurapika. “I have something for you. As a professional courtesy.”

****

Kurapika did not reply. He folded his arms over his chest, waiting for Hisoka as the scientist went to a side desk that was littered with papers and beakers. He rifled through his desk for a few moments before finally pulling out a few sheets of paper and presenting them to Kurapika with a smirk. With a sigh, Kurapika started to rifle through them. The first was a scan of a seismograph output from some two weeks ago, somewhere from the breach in the middle of the ocean. It was the sort of movement that preempted a kaiju attack, but there had not been any attacks in the time since this movement. Next was a sonar picture of the ocean interspersed with satellite pictures of something dark and massive moving through the waves.

****

Kurapika’s hands clenched on the paper when he came across a much better picture. He ran a shaking finger over the screen grab, tracing the legs. _One, two, three, four, five…_

****

“Eight legs,” Hisoka said to Kurapika. “I counted, and I compared these images to others. There are definitely eight legs. And considering the scale, we’re looking at a kaiju some twenty to thirty stories tall. And with its movement and intelligence…”

****

“Spider,” Kurapika hissed through his teeth. The paper in his hands was flashing red and white as his irises changed. “Spider is back.”

****

“That it is,” Hisoka confirmed. He slid another page toward Kurapika. This one was much harder to sort out - numbers and equations and diagrams, oh my. Hisoka took the time to explain this one, at least, saying, “These are my predictions of kaiju attacks. I know that with the way you study our research with that boy-toy of yours -”

****

_“Hisoka,”_ Kurapika interjected warningly.

****

“- you’ve noticed that the kaiju are coming more often now. I predict the next attack will be in a week. It will likely be a double event, and with the way Spider is moving in a western trajectory…”

****

Hisoka traced a nail over the page, mapping out a prospective path for the Category 5 kaiju. A path that brought it directly to Yorknew’s doorstep.

****

Kurapika tore his eyes away from the page. “Why are you telling me this?”

****

“Because I know the vengeance you seek,” Hisoka assured him. He lounged back against his tanks again, arms folded over his chest. Kurapika never saw him in the training room, but his arms were built and muscular, tattooed all over with art of various kaijus. Kurapika felt his stomach roll as he recognized a trailing spider leg poking out from under his shirt. Hisoka went on, “But I also know you and your delectable hunter pilot have been getting...closer, of late. I’m not pressing for details,” Hisoka said, holding up his hands in a preemptive defense like he feared Kurapika would throw a beaker at him. “Not that I think you’ll give them.”

****

“I wouldn’t,” Kurapika confirmed woodenly. Not least because there was nothing to tell.

****

Hisoka smirked like he could read Kurapika’s mind and didn’t buy into his self-deluding bullshit for a second. “I thought I would give you a heads-up. Let you get your... _affairs_ in order.”

****

Kurapika’s lip curled. “Go to hell,” he snapped, turning on his heel and getting ready to stomp out.

****

He heard Hisoka’s echoing laugh behind him. “Oh, Kurapika,” he called. “Haven’t you heard? This is already the end of the world.”

****

****

~

****

**  
**

****

Leorio had learned years ago that, in another life, Killua was definitely some kind of ninja-assassin. The kid moved so silently that he had, on multiple occasions, startled him into dropping whatever he was holding or knocking his papers askew over his desk.

****

So Leorio only had his recent training with Kurapika to thank for not startling when Killua the Demon appeared behind him in the bathroom mirror behind him like a modern Bloody Mary. Leorio’s hands spasmed briefly, pressing a faint red line into his throat, but at least he didn’t open his jugular. Leorio closed his eyes, took a breath, prayed for patience, and resumed his shave.

****

“Can I help you, Killua?” He asked. “Do you need to learn to shave?”

****

Killua went bright red. “Shut up. No. I just needed to talk to you.”

****

“Oh?” Leorio asked. “What’s up, kiddo?”

****

“You’re such a dad,” Killua grumbled, his face going bright red. He folded his arms over his chest. “Gon and I are both wondering. Is Kurapika okay? He’s been off the past few days.”

****

Leorio frowned, thinking back. Kurapika had indeed been more somber than usual this week, quiet and reserved, almost sullen. It was reminiscent of their relationship before they became drift partners. Leorio had asked him about it, of course, multiple times, trying to show his concern without coming across as too pushy. Every time, Kurapika would simply send him a placating smile and say that there was nothing the matter, everything was fine, he was just thinking. Leorio let it go without a fight, but he knew two of those three assurances were lies.

****

“I’m not sure,” Leorio said honestly. He rinsed off his razor and moved to the other side of his face. “I’ve asked, but you know how stubborn he can be. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, he won’t, and the more you push the more he clams up. So long as he knows you’re there, he’ll talk about it in his own time.”

****

Killua was quiet for a long minute. Then he said, “You really are sunk, huh?”

****

“As you are with Gon,” Leorio said honestly. Killua flushed red again.

****

“You’re that serious about it?” Killua asked, kicking his legs beneath him from his spot sitting on the sink. Leorio shrugged.

****

“It’s too early to say,” he said. “He’s my hunter partner. My friend, maybe even my best friend. That’s plenty for now.”

****

“Hm,” Killua mumbled. “Well. Good luck with that. And if Kurapika needs anything...well. Just let me know if I can help. Same with Gon and Alluka.”

****

Leorio washed off the last of his shaving cream and ran a hand over his skin, checking for any stubble he may have missed. He palmed aftershave over his face.

****

“I’ve always known you were a softie,” Leorio laughed to himself. He rinsed his hands and ruffled Killua’s hair. He batted him off with a scowl that didn’t quite reach his eyes, following Leorio out of the bathroom.

****

Leorio dropped his things off in his room and picked up a medical textbook to study. He followed Killua to the common area they claimed as their own. Cacophonous shouting echoed down the hall as they approached, and Killua jogged on ahead, looking eager to see his sister and boyfriend like it had been days and not hours at most since they last spoke. Leorio shook his head fondly to himself, laughing softly, and he stopped on the door threshold to take in the scene:

****

“Wow, Kurapika, you’re really bad at this,” Alluka was saying, not taking her eyes off of the television screen. Her beads rang together as she leaned forward, her tongue between her teeth in concentration as she mashed buttons. “Gon, I’m gonna getcha, I’m gonna getcha -”

****

“You won’t,” Gon insisted, knocking his shoulder against Alluka’s. Alluka slammed back against him, much harder, and Gon laughed as her slightness slammed against his muscular build.

****

Sitting at the end of the row was Kurapika, a controller in his hands. His delicate brows were furrowed together, an utterly _adorable_ pouting scowl on his lips as he maneuvered his character around the track. His eyes were flickering between gray and red, and they flashed red when his kart went off the track. He snarled something in a familiar-sounding foreign tongue. Leorio tucked his book under his arm, watching Kurapika with the sort of heart-eyes Gon saved for Killua.

****

Kurapika’s player character crossed the line, dead last from what Leorio could tell. His head whipped to the side to glower at Leorio when he heard him laugh.

****

“Could _you_ do better?” Kurapika demanded imperiously. He tossed his hair out of his face with a flick of his neck as the next race queued up. His red earring flashed, a glitter of ruby in the gold of his fine hair.

****

“I’m sure,” Leorio said. Kurapika’s lip curled into Leorio’s favorite challenging smirk.

****

“Care to put that to the test?”

****

“I would, but not now,” Leorio said. He held up his textbook. “Gotta study, you know. Future doctor and all that.”

****

“A cowardly stance,” Kurapika said as the race started. Leorio rolled his eyes and tugged at a lock of Kurapika’s hair as he went past; Kurapika jerked his elbow back to nail Leorio’s thigh just above the knee, which hurt like a _motherfucker,_ but Kurapika swore even louder than he did when his kart went off the track.

****

So, that was a win.

****

Leorio spent the afternoon alternating between studying his medical text and teasing the others. Gon and Killua nudged each other hard, all sharp jabbing elbows and shoulder-checks, but it was Alluka who dominated the day. Kurapika lost every race, and the cranky set to his lips was so cute Leorio wanted to kiss him for it. But Kurapika was smiling from the eyes for the first time in nearly a week, and the knot of tension that had taken up residence in Leorio’s stomach in that time finally loosened to see it.

****

Leorio left them around four to head to his shift in the medical bay, waving at the kids and at Kurapika. Fortunately, there was little to do, considering there had not been any kaiju attacks lately. He spent his shift tallying inventory, restocking shelves, and organizing the cabinets. Eventually he ran out of things to do, so he settled back down into his chair to read his textbook. As the hours went by, Leorio paged through the chapters about cardiology, taking notes and copying diagrams and doing practice problems. It wasn’t until there was a gentle hand on his shoulder that Leorio jumped up, his back cracking all the way down, and realized that it was two o’clock in the morning.

****

“Dr. Cheadle,” Leorio greeted with a yawn. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you. How long have you been here?”

****

“Not too long,” Cheadle said. Her eyes were bright behind her glasses. She peered down at his work. “Studying hard, I hope?”

****

“Yes, ma’am,” Leorio said automatically. “Don’t want to give you a reason to think I’m slacking.”

****

“I’ve never thought you were slacking, Leorio,” Cheadle told him warmly. “Quite the contrary. Between your studies here and your hunter training, I would rather you took a day to yourself now and then. You’re going to worry me and that partner of yours.”

****

Leorio wanted to laugh at the idea of Kurapika worrying about him, but when he followed Cheadle’s gaze, it was to see Kurapika standing on the threshold of the medical bay. The dim lighting of the hallway (the lights only half-lit to conserve power) illuminated him in a faint glow that shone off of his white sleep clothes and the flaxen blond of his hair.

****

“Kurapika!” Leorio said, a bit too loudly in his surprise. He stood up, his knees protesting the movement from sitting for so long. “Is everything okay?”

****

“Of course,” Kurapika said, a wry twist to his lips. He said it like he wasn’t in this medical bay every few weeks for some kind of mishap. “I came to fetch you to make sure you did not pull another all-nighter studying.”

****

“Staying up half the night in the process, yourself,” Cheadle said softly as she sipped her coffee. Kurapika shrugged.

****

“I wasn’t tired.”

****

“Up late gaming?” Leorio asked him. “Did Killua and Alluka get you started on the _Legend of Zelda_ franchise? How about _Mario Party?”_

****

Kurapika half-shrugged, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Something like that.” He took a half-step away from the door. “Shall we? Goodnight, Dr. Cheadle.”

****

“Goodnight, Kurapika,” Cheadle called after them. “I hope we don’t see each other soon.”

****

Leorio snorted out a guffaw. Kurapika sighed.

****

“Always the charmer with you, Leorio,” he observed. Leorio blew a raspberry down at him and twisted his neck, cracking his joints. Kurapika watched him with mild concern and awe. “The sounds that your body makes continue to alarm me.”

****

“All for you, sunshine,” Leorio said tiredly. He suppressed a yawn behind his hand and gratefully dreamed of his bed. Pillows. Blankets. A soft, vaguely horizontal surface.

****

Kurapika rolled his eyes but didn’t say any more. Leorio got the sense that Kurapika wanted to tell him something, but whatever it was that went on in that anxious, overthinking brain of his was making it hard to articulate the words. But Leorio was patient, so he hesitated outside of his bedroom door before unlocking it.

****

“Spit it out, K’pika,” Leorio said kindly. “These old bones aren’t getting any younger.”

****

Kurapika snorted. “‘The old bones,’” he quoted. “You can’t be older than thirty.”

****

“You’re _right,”_ Leorio grumbled. “But you don’t need to say it like that. I’m twenty-five. Twenty-six in March if we live that long.”

****

“Always the optimist,” Kurapika teased. The smile on his face was genuine, which made the disappointment all the greater when Leorio watched it melt away again. Leorio nudged Kurapika’s foot with his own.

****

“Really, though,” he said. “We all know something’s wrong. I’m guessing that’s why the kids roped you into playing with them today. Hell, Killua even found me while I was shaving and asked about it.”

****

“Well, if _Killua_ is asking about it, I must be doing a bad job of hiding it,” Kurapika sighed.

****

“Wait, were you trying to _hide_ it?” Leorio asked. “You melodramatic prick.”

****

“Shut up, you crass mongoose,” Kurapika immediately replied. Leorio stifled a snicker behind a hand and stepped back.

****

“C’mon, I’ll make you some tea, and then we can talk.”

****

Without waiting for an answer, Leorio unlocked his door and stepped into the room, toeing off his shoes and tossing his textbooks onto a desk. He sensed rather than heard Kurapika follow in after him, removing his shoes as well and casting his gaze around the room.

****

“It’s...cleaner than I expected,” Kurapika observed. Leorio sent him a mock-glare over his shoulder.

****

“I’m a doctor. Gotta be neat and organized. No one trusts a sloppy doctor.” He filled his electric tea kettle with water from the drinking fountain outside and put it on to boil. Meanwhile, Kurapika had gingerly sat himself in the one chair in the room, Leorio’s desk chair. He tucked his bare feet up under him, wrapping his arms around his knees.

****

“Remind me to make tea for you sometime,” Kurapika said as he watched Leorio pour the boiling water into two mismatched mugs. “Not that there’s anything wrong with this, but my process is a bit more...involved.”

****

“Yeah?” Leorio asked, handing Kurapika a mug. “Do you grind the leaves yourself? Also, I only have lemon and bergamot. Hope that’s okay. Do you take honey? Milk?”

****

“A little honey, if you have it, and no milk,” Kurapika said. He clasped both his hands around the large mug.

****

“Good, because I don’t have milk,” Leorio said. He swirled a spoonful of honey into his own tea before passing it to Kurapika. “At least, not that I trust. Whatever I have in there is probably cheese now.”

****

“First, why did you offer me milk if you didn’t have any?” Kurapika asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Second, you _just_ told me you kept this place clean because ‘no one trusts a sloppy doctor.’”

****

“One day your impeccable memory will not be a weapon used against me,” Leorio said. “And anyway - are you going to tell me what’s been bothering you for a week now? You’ve been out of it since Hisoka pulled you aside.”

****

Kurapika sighed, sipping his tea. He peered down into it, nonplussed. “This tastes like paper.”

****

“You already said you’re making the tea next,” Leorio reminded him. “Quit changing the subject.”

****

Kurapika sighed. “Again, your blunt attitude is the weapon against _me.”_

****

Before Leorio could ask him what the hell that meant, Kurapika reached into his pockets and pulled out a series of folded papers. Wordlessly, he handed them to Leorio. His eyes screamed at the idea of parsing apart more text or diagrams, but Leorio accepted them anyway, setting down his mug and unfolding them to page through. His brows started rising as he took in the seismograph and the satellite images.

****

“Kaiju,” Leorio observed eloquently. Kurapika only nodded. Leorio squinted at the blurry picture of a kaiju breaching the surface like a whale and counted the appendages above and below the surface. “Oh, fuck.”

****

Kurapika laughed weakly. “Always so poignant, Leorio.”

****

“Well, why give a speech when only a word will do,” Leorio asked, rubbing a hand over his face. “Hisoka pulled you aside to give you a heads-up about Spider.”

****

“Yes,” Kurapika confirmed.

****

“Did he tell the others?” Leorio asked. “Bisky, Melody, Cheadle? Netero? If Spider is coming here, we’ll need to evacuate as much of Yorknew as we can.”

****

Kurapika sighed. “I’m not sure. I can only hope so. Assume so. All Hisoka could really guarantee was that there would be a kaiju attack in the next two weeks - well, one week now - and that it’s going to be a double event.”

****

“And you think Spider will be part of it,” Leorio said.

****

Kurapika’s eyes flashed once. “I know it will.”

****

“How?” Leorio asked. Kurapika flapped a hand.

****

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just do. I know it sounds insane.”

****

“Nothing sounds insane at three in the morning, K’pika,” Leorio said tiredly. He handed the papers back to Kurapika and sipped his tea. “Is this why you’ve been acting distant?”

****

Kurapika nodded. “Yes. I haven’t meant to. I just...I know I tend to draw away, when faced with this subject.”

****

The wholesale slaughter of his entire clan, family, and culture? Yeah, Leorio can imagine Kurapika might not be too jazzed to open up about it. But he sat and waited, watching thoughts swirl in Kurapika’s mind as he picked out which words he wanted to say. The careful consideration with which he spoke always fascinated Leorio, whose entire life motto was essentially “speak first, think later.” But he supposed the ways they balanced each other - Kurapika’s thoughtfulness and consideration to Leorio’s witless mouth; Leorio’s careful planning to Kurapika’s tendency to get over his head in fights - were what made them so compatible. As drift partners, that is.

****

“I just…” Kurapika sighed. “The idea of Spider being back, of swimming in the oceans, planning something - because it _is_ planning something, no kaiju comes through the breach and swims around for weeks not attacking unless it’s strategizing - it makes my blood boil. This is the first time it’s been sighted in _years._ And who knows when it will be back, if it’ll even be close enough for us to kill? And I _need_ to kill it, Leorio,” Kurapika said, as if he thought Leorio would try to argue with him over this. “Spider needs to die, and I need to end it.”

****

Leorio shrugged. “Yeah, I know, Kurapika. That’s why we do the whole Hunter pilot thing.”

****

Kurapika’s mouth worked, opening and closing rapidly. “But I - you do know that we might die trying to kill Spider, yes?”

****

“Obviously?” Leorio said, nonplussed. “We can get killed anytime we go out there. And a Cat 5 kaiju - yeah, Spider can fuck our shit up. But we’re gonna get to it first. We’re gonna kill it, Kurapika, or die trying. So we should probably make a plan instead of angst about it.”

****

Kurapika’s lips parted. When he spoke, his eyes were very big in his face, his voice very quiet. “You...you said _we.”_

****

“Duh,” Leorio said. He tried to act nonchalant when really he just wanted to bury his face in his hands, because Kurapika had never looked at him like that before, all speechless and _soft._ It made Leorio’s guts turn to goo, which he could not deal with right now if he was going to offer comfort and also come up with a cohesive plan. “I’m your partner, Kurapika. And I’d like to think I’m also your friend now, too. You say this thing is dangerous and scary as hell, I believe you. You say we need to kill this bastard and serve it for breakfast, I’m there. I’m all in, Kurapika. But I have no plans of dying, so we need to come up with a plan to utterly _wreck its shit._ So let’s get to bed, steal Hisoka’s notes, grab the kiddos, and start planning in the morning. Deal?”

****

Kurapika was quiet for a long minute. Then he nodded, and Leorio knew he did not imagine the small tremble in his voice when he said, “Deal.”

****

“Alright then,” Leorio said, standing up to show Kurapika out. “I’ll see you in the morning - the _late_ morning. If you wake me up before ten you won’t need to worry about Spider because I’ll kill you myself.”

****

“I’d like to see you try,” Kurapika said, glancing up at Leorio. He had forgotten how _short_ Kurapika was - the top of his head barely brushed his collarbones. But he was grinning up at Leorio, cajoled into a better mood as if in spite of his best efforts to mope, as Leorio opened the door to show him out.

****

They were standing very close, Leorio realized. Close enough he could see the ghosts of the freckles on his face, close enough to see the way the hall lights made his lashes cast shadows over his face. He was close enough that Leorio saw Kurapika’s gaze flick down to his mouth, briefly, consideringly, and time stood still as Leorio pictured the mental coin toss Kurapika had just done. It felt like he waited forever to see if it would come up _Do It_ or _Don’t._

****

Kurapika took a step away. “Thank you for listening, Leorio. You’ve been...very kind to me.”

****

“You deserve it,” Leorio said honestly. He sounded more hoarse than he intended, and he cleared his throat. “G’night.”

****

Another step back. Kurapika still hadn’t turned away. “Goodnight, Leorio.”

****

Leorio made himself close the door.

****

****

~

****

**  
**

****

This was the insidious threat of planning, Kurapika learned over the next few days: it made one feel that they had control over a situation that was very much not theirs to manage.

****

Case in point: the two and a half days that he, Leorio, Killua, Gon, and Alluka spent together, pouring over maps and spreadsheets, spitballing ideas and plans to take down a fucking Category 5 kaiju. Which would have been hard enough, except this was _Spider_ \- twenty-seven stories of claws and teeth and hair and legs and fangs and acidic poison. It was gargantuan, deadly, _smart._ No other kaiju coasted the seas, biding its time, lying in wait for the perfect moment to strike. It strategized as much as they did, Kurapika was sure of it.

****

As was Hisoka, who poked his head into what he dubbed their “cute little meeting” to offer his helpful but unsolicited advice.

****

“They have a sort of...hive mind, of sorts,” Hisoka explained, waving his fork around because he was eating takeout that he had procured from somewhere. “They follow a hierarchy. Category ones follow twos, who follow threes, et cetera. Category fives are at the top of the pecking order, though they, too, take their orders from...something.”

****

Kurapika rubbed his fingers over his temples. “Hisoka, do we want to know where you got this information?”

****

“No,” Killua, Gon, and Alluka said unanimously.

****

Hisoka beamed down at them, his golden eyes glowing in that unpleasant way of his. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Just... _trust me.”_

****

“Might trust that more than wherever the hell you got that chow mein,” Leorio muttered. “Anything else, Hisoka?”

****

“Nope.” Hisoka blew a large bubble with his bubblegum, and the idea of the flavor contrast between salty noodles and berry-sweet gum almost made Kurapika’s stomach churn.

****

“Thank you for your help, Hisoka,” Kurapika said. “We’ll take it from here.”

****

Hisoka fluttered his fingers in a flirty wave. “Goodbye,” he said to them. “I hope you don’t die.”

****

He sashayed out of the room, taking with him his scent of fried food and cheap body spray. Kurapika had no idea what the scent was, nor did he want to know. All he knew was that it smelled like marshmallows and it left his skin glittery.

****

Leorio caught his eye. “I will bet you,” he said slowly, enunciating clearly, _“one thousand jenny_ that he found a way to fuck a kaiju.”

****

“Don’t be crass, Leorio,” Kurapika sighed, turning back to their battle plans. They had come up with some ideas for keeping Spider out of Yorknew and its surrounding slums, and now was the task of actually killing the damn thing. “There are children present.”

****

“We’re not kids,” Gon and Killua snapped together, childishly.

****

“I’ll take that bet,” Alluka said to Leorio. They shook on it, and Kurapika lifted his eyes to the ceiling and prayed for patience.

****

“You’re a terrible influence,” Kurapika said. Leorio shot him a dirty look that he knew was only skin-deep.

****

“I’m _fun,”_ he insisted. “A kid should learn when they can’t win a bet. How better than to teach her this way?”

****

“A corrupting influence _and_ a thief?” Kurapika said. “For shame.”

****

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Killua said, taking extra papers and following Gon’s instructions of how to turn them into origami frogs. “We can pay. The only one losing their pride here is Leorio.”

****

Kurapika affected an expression of concern. “That’s my fear. He has so little left to lose.”

****

“Oh, fuck _off,_ K’pika,” Leorio said. He opened his mouth to really lay into him, but before he could start, the klaxons started blaring.

****

All of their phones went off at once. Kurapika felt like everything in the world was very, very far away from him as he reached for his phone and turned it over in his hand, reading:

****

_*****DOUBLE EVENT DETECTED***** _

****

_**CAT 5 - SPIDER.** _

****

_**CAT 4 - NEEDLEFINCH** _

****

_**30KM EAST YORKNEW BASE.** _

****

_**POINT: DISSONANT STRIKER** _

****

_**BACKUP: HELLION WHALE; DOGGED REAPER; SONIC SONATA** _

****

Everything felt very calm and quiet, as if Kurapika was sitting in a movie watching the events unfold in front of him. He was watching Killua hug Alluka tightly, then watching Gon wrap both Zoldyck siblings in his arms, pressing his face to their hair. He was watching the two boys pull away and then reach for each other, Gon’s eyes burning like the sun and Killua’s shining like light through ice and they kissed each other once, hard, and then took off down the hallway without a word, without laughter.

****

And there was Leorio, standing above him and offering his hand, because they had a job to do. Kurapika took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. And then they were running.

****

Down long metal hallways, bypassing techs and volunteers who would be overseeing evacuation inland; past people crying, shouting, because this was the first double event they had ever witnessed; into the lockers, where Kurapika pulled on his suit so hard he felt the nerve sensors scratch at his skin from the force. His heart was pounding and his hands were shaking and the world was red, red, _red._

****

He snapped on his helmet and made his way into Dissonant Striker’s pilot’s nest. Leorio should have been hooked up already but he wasn’t, and he caught Kurapika’s shoulder as he tried to stalk past him.

****

“Kurapika,” Leorio said, and he was using that no-nonsense Doctor Voice that Kurapika claimed he hated and disrespected but actually loved, because he knew Leorio was going to be an incredible doctor one day but when he spoke like that Kurapika knew Leorio might just believe it himself. And Kurapika had to swallow down the emotions clawing their way out of his chest lest he lose himself today, in the drift, in Leorio’s dark eyes as he leaned down and pressed his forehead against the hard casing of Kurapika’s helmet.

****

“Breathe,” he ordered, and his voice was both the loudest and the softest thing in the world. “Breathe with me, Kurapika. I’m here.”

****

And maybe that was the worst part, Kurapika thought, forcing himself to breathe. Because he really did feel like a kid again, running towards a Category 5 kaiju like there was something to save. Because he was. Because there was something to stand for and protect again.

****

There were people he could lose again, and that _terrified_ him, because Kurapika didn’t know if he could survive that kind of loss twice.

****

But they were taking point, and Leorio was pulling away to tug on his helmet and lock in. Kurapika joined him, hooking his feet into the base.

****

_“Initiating neural handshake,”_ said a voice in Kurapika’s ear, unfamiliar and strange before he remembered that Melody and Bisky were hunting today in Sonic Sonata. Basho went on, _“Countdown in three, two, one.”_

****

Kurapika hissed in a deep breath, preparing for the influx of memories, trying to force his heart rate to calm let he be pulled under -

****

_Kurapika wanders the soggy streets of Yorknew, pulling the back of his Kurta tunic up over his head to keep off the worst of the pouring rain. The air smells of smoke and filth and standing water. People eye him as he walks past, wide, suspicious eyes set in pinched, hungry faces, and Kurapika looks at them long enough to show that he is not afraid of them, is not afraid of anything, let him alone and he would cause no trouble. Kurapika scowls up at the dark sky as it thunders, and he keep walking east, to the coastline, the docks, to the Hunter Association’s main base of operations._

****

_The rain peters off, and Kurapika is still walking with his tunic over his head. The sun shines hot and muggy in this memory, even as Kurapika still feels the rain on his head and mud up to his ankles in his. Beside him is Leorio, younger and less muscular, bandage on his face a hand over his eyes as he scowls up at the sky for being so fucking bright. A couple kids run by him. One trips and falls, and Leorio stops to help him up, hands him a bit of candy with a wink._

****

_They walk side by side in their memories, their mixed emotions of weary exhaustion and trepidation and hope pushing their steps forward. If Leorio reached out, if Kurapika dropped his arm, they could have held hands down the dirty streets of Yorknew as they walked towards a better life._

****

It was a shame, Kurapika thought as he opened his eyes and came out of the drift, that he had never held Leorio’s hand when he had the chance.

****

_“Neural handshake holding steady,”_ Basho told them over the speakers. _“Dissonant Striker, take the lead. Good luck out there.”_

****

Kurapika met Leorio’s gaze to his left. He sent him a bracing grin, and Kurapika took the first step.

****

Yorknew was pandemonium. Hunters Association guides were out in force as people and smaller jaegers ushered refugees inland, away from the streets that were about to be a battlefield. Dissonant Striker kept to the abandoned streets in the business district, making a beeline to the rocky coastline. The radio chatter was full of orders, movements, the first official sighting of Spider in nearly ten years.

****

Dissonant Striker met the coastline, and there in the distance was the kaiju. Kurapika’s world went red on the edges as he stared ahead - suddenly he was a child again, standing at a mountaintop and watching hell blow in. He saw the tangle of legs, the gnashing of pincers, and his blood ran cold.

****

They could not plan for this. They could not win against this. Spider killed everything it touched, and it would kill every single one of them. Alluka, Killua, Gon. Leorio.

****

_“Kurapika,”_ Leorio said into the comms. Kurapika swallowed and turned to Leorio. He held a hand out toward him. If Kurapika reached out, too, they still would be too far away to touch. _“It’s okay. Let’s kill this motherfucker.”_

****

Somehow, the swear was what did it. Kurapika’s lips split into a grin, and then a laugh, and he took a step.

****

“Alright, Hellion Whale,” Kurapika said into the radio. “Remember the plan?”

****

_“Duh, we went over it like half an hour ago,”_ Killua said. _“We’re getting to higher ground - hell yeah, babe, let’s use that parking garage! We can even throw the old cars, too, it’ll be sick - and keep Spider busy. You two will be up close and personal.”_

****

_“Good luck!”_ Gon chirped cheerfully, all smiles and bloodlust. _“Rip off one of its legs and beat it to death with ‘em!”_

****

Kurapika wanted to comment on this lust for bloodshed, but he would have been one hell of a hypocrite if he said anything right now. So instead he looked at Leorio. “How’s your throwing arm?”

****

_“Let’s compare,”_ Leorio said, grinning. He reached down to an abandoned shipping crate and hefted it up in Dissonant Striker’s massive hand. He hocked it as hard as he could, and Kurapika watched as it arced high across the ocean to land with a great splash at Spider’s feet. _“Fuck!”_

****

_“Language,”_ Melody admonished.

****

_“GET GOOD, LEORIO,”_ Alluka yelled.

****

“Sad,” Kurapika said. He lifted a shipping crate himself and threw it. It hit Spider neatly in its hideous face. Kurapika heard the kaiju’s screech - something like a billion buzzing bees jousting with table saws - from a quarter mile away.

****

_“Are you two done aggravating the harbinger of death?”_ Bisky demanded briskly. _“Back to business, if you please, boys!”_

****

Kurapika bit his lip and strode Dissonant Striker deeper into the ocean. As they walked, it moved slower and slower with the water resistance. That was alright, because Hellion Whale was backing them up, flinging the cars in the abandoned lots and throwing them like footballs at Spider.

****

“Charging Remote Punch,” Leorio said. “Discharging in three, two -”

****

On _one,_ Leorio swung his punch, and a line of green energy rocketed out from his knuckles. It rammed Spider in its grotesque face. A lesser creature would have been killed instantly, or at least lost its balance; as it was, Spider only canted its head back at an unnatural angle and took a step back. Then its hairy brown head snapped in their direction, pincers clashing, and it made its way in their direction.

****

“The plan,” Leorio reminded Kurapika.

****

“I know,” Kurapika said, and they strode forward to engage.

****

The plan was simple and straightforward: keep Spider in the sea, where the water sloshing around its legs would hinder its movement speed. Keep it away from the Yorknew streets if possible, but if it did make it to land, keep it in the docks. Meanwhile, Dogged Reaper and Sonic Sonata would be handling the Category 4 kaiju further up the coast.

****

Spider was nightmarish up close: tall, covered in coarse, matted hair, smelling of salt and blood and something _other_ marking it as something not of this world. Kurapika bared his teeth in a snarl, charging his fists to punch the kaiju in its face. His punch hit home in its face, the creaking sound of metal meeting whatever Spider’s pincers were made of sending chills down Kurapika’s spine. Leorio swung as well, snatching at one of Spider’s legs and twisting, trying to yank it off. Dimly, Kurapika registered two sedans and a van landing on Spider’s head and bulbous torso.

****

Some of Spider’s eyes had burst and were oozing, blue blood dripping over its face and soaking its pincers. Kurapika growled, remembering the caustic nature of kaiju blue. Now they had poison pincers laced with caustic, toxic blood to contend with. Cool.

****

Leorio threw up an arm to block an incoming swinging leg, and Kurapika ducked to catch it. He twisted his arm, and with a great, sickening _crunch,_ Kurapika ripped the leg off of the beast. Kurapika’s world went red as he swung the still-twitching leg like a staff, using the pointed end to drive holes into the kaiju’s flesh.

****

Except that was when things started to take a turn for the worse. It started with Spider starting to force its way forward, despite the best combined efforts of Dissonant Striker and Hellion Whale. As they got closer to the coast, Spider was able to use more legs, and use them faster. Kurapika grunted in pain as he felt Spider’s clawed feet pierce Dissonant Striker over its legs and torso, scratched deep welts into its arms. But what really stood out to Kurapika wasn’t Spider’s screeching, or Hellion Whale’s interference, or Sonic Sonata’s sound waves rattling the very concrete under their feet.

****

No, the only thing that mattered was when Spider swung its leg down, piercing a single clawed foot all the way through Dissonant Striker’s chest and decimating its battery systems. Electricity ricocheted through the jaeger’s systems as the outlets were overwhelmed by the sudden influx of power. It seemed to be the left hemisphere hardest hit, the most damaged -

****

Leorio’s mind shuddered in the drift, its presence flickering in and out, and Kurapika _felt_ the horrible, searing pain that ran through Leorio’s body. And if _Kurapika_ could feel it like this, if he felt his brain half-melting and bile rising in his stomach from this pain, how was Leorio even alive? _Was_ he alive?

****

“Leorio?” Kurapika shouted. “Leorio!”

****

There was no sound in the airwaves, but Leorio was still present in the drift. His mind flickered in and out of consciousness, a gentle presence gently coaxing Kurapika’s frazzled energy.

****

Kurapika tried to block a swing and only half-succeeded. Spider ripped open a deep gouge in Dissonant Striker’s helm. Sparks flew as their pilot’s pod was ripped open. For a few long, nightmarish seconds, Kurapika looked into the ruined eyes of Spider, saw its gnashing, blue pincers. He felt Leorio’s pain, his flickering mind in the drift.

****

For the second time that day, the world slowed to a crawl. Kurapika looked away from Spider, turning his attention to Leorio. He was still standing, if only barely, his left arm dangling near-uselessly as the synapses between his own arm and Dissonant Striker’s were severed. His face was sweaty behind his helmet, his glasses askew, his hair falling over his forehead. Leorio turned to him and met his gaze.

****

Leorio’s eyes went wide with what Kurapika realized was the first genuine anger he had seen in him yet in their acquaintance. How long had they been partners? Three months, if that?

****

It took only three months for Leorio to shift Kurapika’s entire world axis in his direction? It took even that long?

****

_“You stupid bastard,”_ Leorio snarled over the comms. Blood was dripping from his nose. _“Don’t you fucking do it, I’m connected to you, I know what you’re thinking and feeling, don’t you dare pull this shit with me.”_

****

Kurapika felt Leorio’s rage and fear and anguish across the drift. It made him smile. It made his heart break. He hadn’t thought he had enough heart left to break.

****

“I’m sorry,” Kurapika whispered. He closed his eyes, opened the floodgates to let everything he was feeling rush through the drift. What had been carefully controlled and funneled now rushed forth like a burst dam -

****

_Leorio in his scrubs, laughing at a table; Leorio stitching him back together, piece by piece, lollipop by lollipop, laugh by laugh; Leorio yanking a light pole out of the ground and swinging it like a baseball bat at a kaiju; Leorio curled up over a textbook, pencil between his teeth as he studied, his eyes scanning the page with obvious, effortless brilliance; Leorio shouting like a terrible sport when Killua bullied him into losing Smash Brothers in the first minute; Leorio’s sleeping face inches from his own when he awoke, his pinky still entwined with Kurapika’s; Leorio standing tall and handsome and muscular across a training mat; Leorio standing inches above Kurapika, and he could have kissed him and he was disappointed he didn’t and he was grateful for it because that would have made this so much harder -_

****

_Leorio, Leorio, Leorio, his best friend and hunter partner and the only one he ever wanted in his head, the only one he wanted in his heart, and this was not love but it could have been, could have been, could have been, but they could not survive this fight together and if it came down to Kurapika or Leorio, he would pick Leorio every time -_

****

_“KURAPIKA, YOU STUPID, SELFISH, SELF-SACRIFICING BASTARD -”_ Leorio was screaming.

****

Kurapika swallowed. “Left hemisphere eject. Transfer all control to right hemisphere.”

****

_“Kurapika, what the fuck, that will kill you!”_ Gon or Killua were shouting, he wasn’t sure.

****

_“KURAPIKA YOU SON OF A BITCH I AM GOING TO KILL YOU MYSELF -”_ Leorio shouted, but Dissonant Striker ejected him without prelude, and Kurapika turned his undivided attention back to Spider.

****

Kurapika looked the ugly kaiju in the eye, and his world went red.

****

****

~

****

**  
**

****

_Angry_ did not begin to cover it.

****

Nor did _furious, irritated, frustrated, exasperated, outraged._ They were going to have to make an entirely new word for what was burning in Leorio’s chest as Dissonant Striker fucking ejected him and sent him flying across town.

****

Whatever feeling this was, Leorio was _incandescent_ with it when his escape pod touched down with all the finesse of an apple falling out of a tree. He was shaking with wrath and fear. Because how dare he, how _dare_ Kurapika make this decision for him? What kind of partner was he? How dare he send Leorio the equivalent of a stun grenade in the form of what was basically a half-declaration of love and then kick him out so he could go on his stupid fucking suicide mission?

****

The whole point of the plan was that _no one would have to do this._ But _no,_ Kurapika needed to be a selfish, self-sacrificing jackass and kick him out and Leorio was going to wring his little neck and kiss him utterly senseless if they both survived this.

****

He looked around. He had landed in one of the refugee evacuation areas, and he was surrounded by one-person jaegers. In the distance, he saw a very familiar jaeger, laying chains in an attempt to secure the area from the Spider in case it got this far and maybe tripped, Leorio guessed.

****

“Hey - hey!” Leorio shouted, not caring that he looked like a madman, running down the street in a beat-to-hell hunter’s suit with blood pouring down his face. “You!” He smacked the legs of the jaeger, stumbling back when the pilot turned around in an ungainly stomp of legs. Leorio glared up at the pilot, thumbing the emblem on his uniform. “I need to commandeer this jaeger!”

****

“I have orders to secure this area -”

****

“Yeah, well I have orders to kill this fucking kaiju!” Leorio shouted. He kicked Bloody Chains’ foot and tried not to yell in pain as he definitely fucked up his toe. “We don’t have _time_ for this! Spider is going to win!”

****

_Spider may win. Spider may kill the kids. Spider may kill Kurapika._

****

Leorio was pretty sure it was his borderline unhinged, foaming-at-the-mouth rage and not his heartfelt argument that led to this pilot nervously disembarking. Leorio sent him a brusque thanks and a thumbs-up as he settled in. He had never piloted alone before, never needed to settle himself in on his own. But _Kurapika_ had, Kurapika had piloted this jaeger for years before he and Leorio partnered up, and Leorio had spent a lot of time in Kurapika’s head. So Leorio dug through memories that weren’t his and remembered how to adjust the controls, how the jaeger’s best attacks worked, and in a few moments the jaeger opened up to him.

****

Leorio took a long, deep breath to steady himself. He could do this. He was _going_ to do this. Nothing could stop him.

****

Leorio took off at a run.

****

It was not hard to find Spider: follow the sounds of screeching and destruction, and there the kaiju would be. Bloody Chains moved much faster than Dissonant Striker, so Leorio was able to cover a lot of ground in a short period of time. Leorio bounded his way across roofs, making a beeline for the coast. Spider was in the docks now, and as Leorio watched, Dissonant Striker lifted a semi-truck and smashed it into Spider’s face.

****

Leorio smiled in a moment of fondness for that reckless fool’s nerve before he remembered he was _blindingly_ angry at him.

****

Leorio was cut off from comms now that he was no longer attached to Dissonant Striker, so he was just going to need to make up his own thing and prayed the others would follow along. This, Leorio thought, was peak drifting: not being in each other’s heads, just working together. Not knowing what the other was thinking. Just trusting, totally, utterly, blindly.

****

Hellion Whale shouted something incoherent from its position atop a parking garage, which Leorio could not have responded to even if he had not been a bit _busy._ The Fortnite dance spoke for itself.

****

Dissonant Striker had not seen him, considering Kurapika was carrying the neural load of a full-sized jaeger and was also getting his ass kicked.

****

Leorio recalled Kurapika’s memories of using Bloody Chains, of the seemingly endless chains and its mobility. Leorio grinned, remembering his days as a kid when the closest thing he had to a kid was jumping around on roofs.

****

Bloody Chains was small enough that it could easily weave between Dissonant Striker’s and Spider’s legs, mobile enough to crawl up a back leg and hang off of the leg. It was the work of a moment to fasten several loops of chain around the spider’s exoskeleton leg, finding purchase in a section where the bone plating stopped over the joint.

****

From there, Leorio ducked and wove and swung over and under and around Spider’s legs, loosing what felt like miles of chains in his wake and pulling. Spider slowly started to stumble as its legs were pulled closer and closer together. At last, Spider overbalanced from its legs being tied together, and it crashed to its side.

****

Leorio watched as Dissonant Striker lifted one of Spider’s disembodied legs and swung it down. With a sick crunching sound and with a pathetic screech, the leg pierced through Spider’s eyes and into its brain.

****

For a long, almost anticlimactic moment, all was silent. Then Dissonant Striker’s knees slowly gave out. It did not even attempt to move its arms to catch itself as it landed face-first in the sand along the coastline.

****

Leorio was running before he had even thought to move. One moment he was standing in the shadow of Spider’s corpse, and the next, he was opening Bloody Chains’ front hatch and stumbling onto the surf. He ran to the half-destroyed pilot’s port, ducking into the darkened pod. Even the emergency backup generators had been knocked out.

****

In the dark, looking so incongruously small for such a badass personality, lay Kurapika. He did not respond when Leorio called for him, _screamed_ for him, even as Leorio pulled him out of the flooding viewport and lay him in the sand.

****

“C’mon, you stupid asshole,” Leorio murmured. His fingers were steady as they found the catches on Kurapika’s helmet. He removed it as gently as he could, taking care not to move Kurapika’s head or neck as he tugged it off to drop it on the sand. Kurapika was deathly pale and still, his veins standing out blue under his fair skin. There was blood dripping from his nose, his ears. “C’mon, K’pika, please, sunshine, open your eyes, give me _something.”_

****

Leorio yanked his suit’s gloves off and ran his fingers over Kurapika’s neck. He almost wept to find a pulse, weak and frantic as it was, and Leorio waved his arm up at Hellion Whale.

****

“We need a - a medevac,” Leorio shouted up at the jaeger. His head was spinning, and he wondered if he was really shouting or if he was just thinking it really hard. “Get Cheadle, get everyone, I’m worried he’s hemorrhaging, and his heart’s a mess, and, and…”

****

Leorio’s vision tunneled, and then it went black. He clasped Kurapika’s prone body to his chest, doing his best not to jostle him as he sunk unconscious into the sand.

****

****

~

****

****  


****

Kurapika woke up, which was honestly surprising. Considering the way things were going the last time he was conscious, this wasn’t a given. He’d made his peace with just the opposite, really.

****

Kurapika took a deep breath, keeping his eyes closed and taking stock of his body. His limbs felt heavy and sore, like he had overdone it on the weight training. But his toes and fingers wiggled when he tried to move them, so he did not have any broken bones, and his nervous system was, apparently, miraculously intact. His head felt like someone had taken a length of rebar and driven it through his skull. A couple times, actually. His mouth tasted like death and blood.

****

All in all, it could have been worse.

****

Kurapika opened his eyes slowly, blinking against even the muted fluorescent lights in the room. There was someone sitting across the room at the desk, and Kurapika blinked, trying to bring them into focus. He opened his mouth to speak, his voice coming out in a dry croak.

****

“Le - Leorio?”

****

The figure turned, and Kurapika tried not to be disappointed when he saw it was Dr. Cheadle. She sent him a kind smile as she rolled over in her stool in a way so reminiscent of Leorio that Kurapika’s heart lurched.

****

“Sorry to disappoint,” Cheadle said kindly. She took a cup of water from Kurapika’s bedside and pressed it into his hand. “Leorio is fine, I promise. He was discharged a few days ago, and I’ve actually just sent him away from your bedside to shower and eat a proper meal.”

****

Kurapika swallowed thickly. “I’m glad he’s alright.”

****

“He is,” Cheadle assured. She sent Kurapika a wink. “Some bumps and bruises, a dislocated shoulder and too much stress on his body, but nothing lasting.” Her face sobered, and Kurapika braced himself for the coming storm.

****

“If that’s how Leorio fared, I can only imagine how I am,” Kurapika mused. Leorio liked to remind him, repeatedly and often, that he took horrific care of his own body, so he was starting from behind already.

****

“The good news is you should, despite every obstacle, make an almost-full recovery,” Cheadle said. She pulled up a thick chart and adjusted her glasses over her nose. She sent Kurapika a small smile. “Leorio talks often of your stubbornness. It seems that was your saving grace.”

****

Kurapika huffed out a soft laugh through his nose. “So I was too stubborn to die properly?”

****

“To borrow Leorio’s exact phrasing, yes,” Cheadle said. Her smile faded. “With that said - I believe the stress that you’ve put yourself through solo-hunting the past few years may have actually primed your body to withstand the stress of piloting a two-hunter jaeger. It’s why your brain did not melt immediately upon taking the neural load. You’ve been out for the past several days in a medically-induced coma to give your body time to rest and recover. If you do anything else foolish, I will put you back into it myself.”

****

“I also passed a lot of the systems to the autopilot,” Kurapika said. “That took a not-negligible amount of stress off, didn’t it?”

****

“I accounted for that in my estimations, and...no,” Cheadle said, shooting him a look over the rim of her glasses that told him to _shut the hell up, please._ It was clear where Leorio’s bedside manner came from. She went on, “That said, I believe that this experience has shortened your lifespan by a considerable amount. I would estimate...two to ten years, depending on what you do from here.”

****

“What are my options?” Kurapika asked.

****

“The sensible thing would be to stop hunting, forever, immediately,” Cheadle said. She sighed. “That is, of course, supposing that Melody and Bisky ever let you anywhere _near_ a jaeger again after that stunt you pulled with Spider. Which is not a guarantee. But the kaiju are still out there, still coming, and I’m practical enough to recognize we need all the help we can get. It may not matter if you took two years off your life when we may not make it past the next two months. In short, my recommendation as a doctor is that you never so much as _look_ at a jaeger again, but whether that actually goes through is up to the _director.”_

****

Kurapika choked back a laugh. “So it’s a toss-up to see if I’m blocked from hunting forever lest my brian melt out of my ears and whether we risk it anyway so we don’t all die?”

****

Cheadle sighed explosively. “In so many words, yes.”

****

“Excellent,” Kurapika said with a sigh. “This is also supposed Leorio does not kill me with his bare hands.”

****

“There is that,” Cheadle said sagely. “He is on-duty tonight, so I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

****

“I’m only ever on -” Kurapika cut himself off when Cheadle sent him a look that could have stripped paint off the walls. She smirked at him as she reached for her stethoscope to check his vitals.

****

“Excellent decision,” Cheadle said cheerfully. “Stop while you’re ahead.”

****

Cheadle ran his vitals, which were more or less what she expected them to be. Kurapika had a slight heart arrhythmia, which would need to be monitored over the next few days, but he was allowed to get up and use the attached bathroom to shower. He’d been in here so often he wished he had thought to just bring his own products to put under the sink.

****

The stores of Kurapika’s remaining stamina seemed wiped out by the time he exited the bathroom wearing fresh clothes, and he climbed back into the bed without protesting. He managed a few bites of the food Cheadle foisted on him, but he dozed off again before he could clear his plate.

****

When Kurapika awoke again, he was relieved to find that his head ached marginally less than it did before. It felt as though someone had taken his brain to a cheese grater as opposed to his entire skull. He slowly sat up, muscles protesting, casting about to look for Cheadle and ask her for some water. When his gaze fell on Leorio, he froze, blinking like a deer in a bright light.

****

Leorio was leaning against his desk, arms folded across his chest. He looked weary and a little the worse for wear. There were dark circles under his eyes and scratches over his face. His forehead was closed up with a butterfly bandage just over his left eyebrow; Kurapika predicted it would leave a rakish-looking scar once it was fully healed. Kurapika cleared his throat.

****

“You again,” he said softly. He looked away, picking at worn threads of his blanket.

****

Leorio choked out something that could have been a scoff or a laugh. “Me again. We need to stop meeting like this.”

****

Kurapika wished he could have said something clever. But his head hurt too much, and Leorio was _there,_ safe, alive, breathing. Wearing those damn navy scrubs that he looked so terribly handsome in, which just felt unfair considering Kurapika was sure Leorio was about to end their partnership. Kurapika didn’t have it in him to blame Leorio, if that’s what he decided.

****

Leorio crossed the room to stand above his bed. Kurapika opened his mouth to speak, failed to come up with anything, snapped it shut again. He wasn’t even sure where to start.

****

At least Leorio did not have that issue. With a sigh, he fell back into the medic routine, handing Kurapika a glass of water and asking his level of pain. Kurapika answered his questions without banter or a single smart remark. He did not react when Leorio sat on the side of the bed to check his heart with his stethoscope, nor did he flinch when Leorio checked his blood pressure and inflated the cuff just to the point of pain like he always did, even though he tried really hard not to.

****

“Your blood pressure is fine, and your arrhythmia is sorting itself out, which is good,” Leorio said, marking numbers on his chart. “You’ll need to take the next round of pain medication with food, so I’ll call for that.”

****

Leorio made to stand up, and before Kurapika could stop himself, he flung his hand out, catching Leorio’s sleeve before he could go. Kurapika had not intended to move, nor to come across as so needy or _clingy,_ but he couldn’t stand another minute of this forced distance.

****

What a joke. For months, for years, Kurapika had shunned any and all attempts to break past his mile-high walls. He fell back on his need for vengeance and his solitary personality to keep any would-be interlopers or friends at bay. And then Leorio had walked through them with the grace of a battering ram and the patience of a saint. Pathetic.

****

But the move had been made. Leorio’s skin scalded inches away from Kurapika’s fingers. He snatched his hand back, clenching his fists in the blanket.

****

“I’m sorry,” Kurapika said. “I didn’t mean to - I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”

****

Leorio eyed him for another few moments. Then he sighed, some of the tension leaking out of his shoulders. He sat back down on the bed.

****

“We were going to have to talk eventually. Might as well get it out now, if you're up to it.”

****

Kurapika nodded. Leorio frowned for another few seconds, drumming his fingers over his legs. At last, he asked, “Is that all you’re sorry for?”

****

Kurapika blinked. _Was_ he sorry for what he had done? He hadn’t considered it. He regretted his rashness and the way his decision hurt Leorio, certainly. But if presented with the situation again, Kurapika knew he would do it again. If it meant keeping Gon and Killua safe, if it meant keeping Leorio safe…

****

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Kurapika said softly. “But I respect you too much to say I’m sorry for anything else. Because it would be a lie. I thought that we were going to die, and I -”

****

“Decided to be a jackass over it, yeah,” Leorio said. Kurapika’s head snapped up, opening his mouth to retort or argue, but Leorio went on. “You _know_ that every time we go out there we might die. That’s a possibility that every single hunter has contended with and accepted, because that’s the _job._ Gon, Killua, and I have accepted that. And that’s part of being a partner - we drift together, we fight together, we die together.”

****

“Are you mad I didn’t make you martyr yourself?” Kurapika asked waspishly.

****

“No, you asshole, I’m mad because _you_ tried to,” Leorio hissed. “I’m mad because you veered off of the plan to do something stupid, insane, arrogant, and _suicidal_ \- because there was no goddamn way you could have known you would survive that, let alone as intact as you are, I don’t think you know what kind of walking medical _fucking_ miracle you are, Kurapika - because you got it somewhere in your pretty, reckless little head that your life was somehow worth less than ours. Like you’re something to throw away as collateral.”

****

“Am I not?” Kurapika demanded. “My entire people was wiped out, destroyed - I have nothing, no family, no one -”

****

“Great, glad to see where we stand,” Leorio interrupted. His voice was so caustic even Kurapika flinched. “Good to know that you don’t think that your friendships with the kids mattered, that you don’t think _we_ -” Leorio bit off the end of that sentence. He reached up to scrub the heels of his hands over his eyes.

****

Kurapika hesitated for a few moments before he reached up to lay a hand against Leorio’s back. He could feel the tension in his muscles as he gently rubbed soothing circles. “Are you crying?”

****

“No, I’m _pissed,”_ Leorio said, pulling his face out of his hands. His eyes were bright but his face dry. “I’m pissed because I care about you and you almost threw your life away like you’re expendable. I’m pissed because you scared the _shit_ out of me, because I didn’t know if you were going to live. Because by all rights, you shouldn’t have. And I’m pissed because I’m not as pissed at you as I want to be, because I’m just _so damn relieved_ you’re alright.”

****

Leorio let out a long, rattling sigh. He had not pulled away or shoved his hand back, so Kurapika kept tracing a path between Leorio’s shoulder blades. “I _am_ sorry for that,” Kurapika repeated. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

****

Leorio whipped his head around to fixate him with a glare. “As long as you swear _never_ to do it again. I really might kill you myself, then, if the heart attack doesn’t get _me_ or the brain-blending doesn’t get _you_ first.”

****

Kurapika smiled weakly. “This is assuming I’m ever allowed in a jaeger again.”

****

Leorio snorted. “True. I think they want Cheadle or someone to sit down and chat with you about your death wish.”

****

“I think that’s over and done with,” Kurapika assured him. “Considering Spider is gone…” he shrugged. “I’m not sure what exactly I want to do now. Perhaps I can train the recruits full-time. That would allow Bisky to focus on her other duties.”

****

“You’d break them all,” Leorio said with a weary chuckle. “I’d do nothing except tape broken fingers and wrap sprained ankles all day if you were in charge.”

****

“We would have _excellent_ hunters, though,” Kurapika said archly. “Balanced. Talented.”

****

“Cheaters,” Leorio said, and Kurapika laughed.

****

“Better than if you were to do it,” Kurapika told him. “They would all be sore losers.”

****

Leorio shook his head, rejecting that without speaking. They were quiet for another few minutes, sitting there in the dim, Leorio staring into his interlocked fingers, Kurapika still rubbing soothing circles over Leorio’s back.

****

Finally, Leorio broke their stalemate. “Hey. K’pika.”

****

“Hmm?”

****

“Did you mean it?” Leorio asked. He looked up from his interlocked fingers. “The - everything you sent me in the drift at the end there. Did you mean it? Or, well,” he amended hastily. “I guess you meant it at the time, if you - but I guess, I want to know, do you still - now that you’re not about to _imminently die,_ maybe, do you -?”

****

He trailed off, tripping over his own tongue and fumbling into silence. Utterly awkward and charming and handsome and a brilliant _fool,_ as if Kurapika could have ever taken any of it back. As if he wanted to.

****

“I meant it,” Kurapika confessed. Leorio looked up from the tiled floor that had fascinated him so. “I swear. I meant it. I still do.”

****

Leorio nodded. “Okay.”

****

And then he moved, and his hands were so gentle and searing hot against Kurapika’s skin, and Leorio was kissing him, firm and sweet and relieved and the world went pink and red even behind Kurapika’s closed lids as he pressed back into him. His hands reached up to wrap around Leorio’s wrists, anchoring himself in place lest he float away. His lips were soft, a bit chapped at the edges, and he smelled like cologne and antiseptic and he tasted like coffee and _home._ He kissed like a happy ending. Like a new beginning.

****

Kurapika was breathing harder than the kiss merited when Leorio pulled away.

****

“I’m still a bit mad at you,” Leorio told him.

****

“I imagine so,” Kurapika breathed. He was smiling so widely his cheeks ached. “Mad enough not to kiss me again?”

****

Leorio smirked. “Maybe not that mad. But you _do_ need a meal, and you need to sleep. Kissing and everything else can come later.”

****

“Everything else?” Kurapika repeated, delighted. His face went hot and his stomach flipped. Leorio’s only reply was a flirtatious grin, and he pulled away to return to work.

****

“Yeah,” Leorio said, striding over to his desk and grabbing a jar. “Maybe we’ll hold hands. Maybe have a rematch in the gym, because you definitely cheated last time. Maybe another kiss if you’re _very_ good.”

****

“And if I’m not?” Kurapika asked cheekily as Leorio sat beside him again. Leorio’s eyes had the nerve to practically glitter with mischief.

****

“I hope you're not,” Leorio said, and he popped the bubblegum-flavored Dum-Dum into Kurapika’s mouth before he could say any more.

****

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! please leave a comment or kudos to let me know what you think!
> 
> if you want to follow me on tumblr for more of my bullshit and writing, you can hmu at notantherwritingblog.tumblr.com. thank you again!!!


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